


Shipshape and Bristol

by dracox_serdriel



Series: Her Dark Works [21]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Deal with the Devil or technically Hades, Ancient History, Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Camelot, Changing the Time Line, Contracts, Curse of the Bonsai Tree, Dreams, Dreamworld, Emotional Manipulation, Excalibur, Exile, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Ghostlights, Hades Being a Jerk, Ignis Fatuus, Infernal Contracts, Land Without Magic, Loyalty, M/M, Magical Contracts, Maldonia, Maritime Kingdom, Memories, Memories from Another Life, Neverland, Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Nightmares, Past Lives, Purgatory, Spirit Fire, Storybrooke, The Dark One Line, The Enchanted Forest, The Jolly Roger, Time Line Manipulation, Time Manipulation, Time Travel, True Love, True Love's Kiss, Underworld, Violence, will-o'-the-wisps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-05-28 13:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6330910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Special two-episode length.</em> After surviving Pan's Last Curse, Emma must make a heartbreaking decision. The Enchanted Forest is rocked by sweeping changes as a new king takes Camelot's throne.</p><p><strong>Her Dark Works</strong> takes place in an alternate universe where Emma Swan was born and raised in the Enchanted Forest. One day, things go horribly wrong, and she abandons her birthright and throne to seek revenge on the Dark One. What happens when a woman born to be the Savior of the Realm joins forces with the Vengeful Pirate of Neverland?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreamworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Killian recovers from his wound, Emma fights her inner demons for the sake of her future.

_Once upon a time,_ no one ever dreamed. Everyone slept, as they always have, but while their bodies rested, their souls would patiently wait until the morning came, no matter how boring it was.

Then one day, a young child became very ill with a fever. It has been so long that no one remembers the name of the child or the parents, nor whether the youth was a girl or boy. What they do remember is this: the child's parents called every healer in all the lands, but, alas, there was nothing to be done.

So the parents traveled deep into the forest and sought the Shadow, for its power was widely known in all the realms. They failed to find the creature, however, and returned home with weary hearts, resigned to lose their only child.

But when they returned, they found someone waiting at their door. So aged was their visitor that they could not think how to greet him or her, as neither parent could guess their guest's sex. Thus, they called their visitor the Stranger.

"Can you heal our child, Stranger?" one parent asked.

"I believe I can," the Stranger replied. "For this, I need only a hot fire and a few spices."

So the parents brought the Stranger inside. 

The Stranger instructed the parents to each select an item loved by the child. One parent took the child's blanket and the other, a toy of great significance. The Stranger handed the parents each a single Middlemist Flower.

Then the Stranger tended to the child by putting an sacred ointment over the forehead and heart, and thereafter, wrapping the child in heavy blankets before a roaring fire.

"Will the fever not kill him?" the other parent asked.

The Stranger replied, "As is the case with his illness, yes. To kill the sickness within, the fever burns so hot that the body also dies."

"Then we are lost!" the parents wailed.

"I did not come to put this house in mourning," the Stranger chided. "The spell I cast will draw your child's soul out of the body. Once the fever has run its course, the items you have collected will lead the soul back to its home, for so long as the soul remains untouched by the fever, the body will receive it and recover."

The parents were greatly afraid, for who had the power to draw souls from living bodies? But they waited and did as the Stranger commanded, and after the fever ran its course and their child seemed gone forever, they placed the blanket, toy, and flowers on their child's chest.

They each took their child's hand in theirs and waited, but the child did not wake. They wailed and collapsed in grief.

The child awoke as soon as their tears touched their young one's skin, and the parents were so greatly overjoyed that they did not see the Stranger transform into the Shadow and fly out of their house. Though they sought the Stranger many times, they never did meet again. 

That night, the parents slept, but when they woke, they both remembered visiting a beautiful place that was filled with thousands of people and wondrous things they'd never before imagined. But what nonsense was that? Neither one had left their beds, so how could they possibly gone elsewhere?

But each night after, it happened again. They awoke with new memories that slipped away in the daylight, and after a time, they began to ask others about it. All their village had this strange occurrence as well.

The healers were called to investigate, and they realized that now, when people slept, their souls left their bodies and journeyed to another place, entertaining themselves while the body rested. From time to time, a person might remember what the soul did the night before but never clearly, as the body was not meant to know things of the spirit.

It was said that, should someone be willing, they could meet the creator and protector of this world, the Shadow, which opened the pathway to its own realm so that souls could journey there apart from their bodies.

Thus, after a very, very long time, long after everyone had forgotten the name of the parents and their young one, it was known that this sick child was the very first person to make the journey to the Shadow's realm, which many called Dreamworld. And that we call these things dreams. 

That is why, to this day, when we sleep at night, the soul leaves the body and travels to another place, usually the realm of Dreamworld, which is protected by the Shadow. While many other realms of dream have appeared since, it is said that souls must pass through Dreamworld first.

* * *

Emma smiled as Henry read a story to Killian, who was resting fitfully. When she tried to heal him, the pirate refused, warning her that it might jeopardize his sacrifice and therefore her life. He only accepted non-magical remedies, such as cauterizing the wound and pain relief from ice and herbs. And for the past two days, he remained in bed, healing but very weak.

For the first time in living memory, her parents did not throw a ball, feast, or celebratory event of any kind to mark their victory. Snow said that supplanting Arthur was necessary, but it was nothing to celebrate.

They discovered Queen Guinevere locked in a high tower, and she explained that, when she begged him not to use the dagger, her husband saw it as a betrayal. She was freed, and she promised to teach Duke Taio about the kingdom so that he could succeed her when the time was right.

As for the former king, he remained chained up in a dungeon for crimes against the realm and his own kingdom, including wrongfully imprisoning the Queen, aiding known enemies, and abducting the Savior of the Realm. The formalities of a trial had not yet been observed, but Emma knew Camelot officials would demand it soon enough, as the sentence demanded life imprisonment.

Whatever the outcome of the trial might be, Emma felt certain he would be locked away for the rest of his life, and while she was grateful for the smidgen of justice, part of her wanted him executed for his crimes.

A very big part of her, in fact. The more she thought about it, the more enraged she became over the leniency afforded to him. He certainly didn't deserve it.

"Mom, I think he's waking up," Henry said, interrupting her train of thought.

"Aye, lad," Killian replied. "That was a fine tale. You have a gift for authorship."

"I dunno about that," Henry said quickly, trying to hide his enthusiasm. "I was only reading from a book August showed me. This was the oldest book he had. He said it was the first book any Author ever wrote."

"Author with a capital 'A'?" Emma asked.

"Yeah, which makes this a real story," Henry replied. "A true story."

"I once heard a rumor that Neverland was called Dreamworld before Pan took up residence," Killian said as he sat up. "I thought it was nonsense at the time."

"No, it's all true," Henry replied, no longer bothering to contain his excitement. "It was called Dreamworld until the man who became Peter Pan showed up and merged with the Shadow. That's what transformed that place into Neverland."

"As I said, it's a fine tale," Killian said. "Do you think I could have a moment alone with your mother?"

"Gross," Henry mumbled.

"What was that, kid?" Emma asked.

"Uh, just, you know, glad you're feeling better," Henry replied before he nipped out the door.

"Have you been sitting at my bedside through the night, Swan?"

"You've been here for two days," she replied.

"I don't suppose I've been good company."

"Getting better by the minute," she replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry."

She held her hand out and summoned a tray with a few of his favorite things from the Camelot kitchens: sourdough bread, cheese, grapes, and beef.

"I was speaking of a different appetite," he said, but his innuendo was betrayed by the loud growl of his stomach.

"Eat," she said as she placed the tray on his lap.

She kissed him on the cheek, and when she pulled back, he turned his head, capturing her lips with his own. He instinctively reached up to cup the back of her head only to have his stump gracelessly skim her neck.

He drew back physically and mentally, but she followed, pressing their foreheads together.

"Take a bit of getting used to is all," he said quietly.

"Don't worry, Captain, I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Killian thought that losing his hand would be easier this time. After all, it only took him a few months to adapt to using a hook in its place, and many an enemy thought they had the notorious Captain Hook disarmed only to discover their mistake after spilled blood.

He never spoke about it, but over the centuries, he experienced several sensations from his missing hand. He thought he'd survived the worst of it when the throbbing pains and dull aches disappeared about three months after he first lost it.

Alas, on the anniversary of Milah's murder, he woke to an intense itching that refused to abate. It soon became a maddening distraction that lasted weeks. He didn't find relief until a bar wench mentioned a retired battle medic who helped her brother after a nasty group of bandits cut off his arm. For a few gold coins, the medic provided a nighttime tea, an herbal treatment, and a series of exercises involving mirrors that eventually permanently relieved the itching.

But he still experienced twinges of pain and soreness, usually preceded by nightmares about the Crocodile and Milah, but it happened less often and became easier and easier to ignore.

He glanced at the fresh stump on his left arm. He had done himself the favor of a clean cut and immediate cauterization, leaving the least amount of scar tissue. He had grown used to the unattractiveness of the previous wound. He found himself missing ugliness of it.

Killian didn't regret it, as his hand for Emma's life was hardly a decision, but it was harder than he'd thought it be. He'd grown more accustomed to having both hands than he realized.

He'd adjust.

In truth, he was only obsessing over his missing hand to distract himself from his more immediate concerns about Emma. She hid it well, certainly better than before Pan's Last Curse, but every once and a while, her mask slipped, revealing the storm inside her.

Emma Swan was getting ready to run.

* * *

Duke Taio requested a private audience over lunch, so Emma found herself alone in a small dining chamber, waiting.

She hated waiting. He was the one who asked her here. He set the time. So why was he late? Who did he think he was?

"Ah, Miss Swan," Whale said as he entered. "You're early."

"Am I?"

He rang a bell. 

"We assumed you'd be by closer to one, when you usually eat," he replied. "Apologies. We should be under way shortly."

Whale joined her at the table, and several waiters appeared with utensils, plates, cups, napkins, and a dining cart. A course was served before Taio arrived in his traveling cloak. 

"Sorry you had to start without me," he said politely before he kissed Whale on the cheek.

"Not to be blunt, but why did you ask me here?" Emma asked.

"Ah, of course," Taio replied as he sat down. "I wanted to thank you personally for sparing Arthur. He was never a father to me, but I am his blood. Having the chance to know him, or... well, what's left of him, is a gift. So thank you."

His politeness was misplaced and stiff, and she saw through it easily. Taio was terrified of her.

She realized that she should've expected this to happen now that the Dark One was no longer a secret identity. People would want to placate her, to show her how good of friends they were so she wouldn't lash out at them.

"There's no need to thank me," she replied. "I never had a chance to kill him, so technically I didn't spare him."

"He wants to ask you why you gave up your crown," Whale said.

"Victor," Taio chided. 

"If you were injured, the last place I'd want to be is at lunch with someone who can't spit out what he wants to know," Whale said. He turned to Emma and continued, "He's still shell-shocked about the whole returning home and being royalty again thing."

"Shell-shock isn't an adjective in this realm," Taio corrected.

"It translates fine," Emma said.

"Victor is half-right," Taio continued. "I did want to ask you about why you renounced your titles and crown. How did you manage to go from being Princess Emma to the Savior of the Realm? Was it a sacrifice or an act of freedom? A now that you're also the Dark One, will you - "

"Stop," she interrupted. "I appreciate your situation, and I respect your questions. But we hardly know one another, and even my friends wouldn't ask the questions you're asking me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be inappropriate," Taio said.

"You're afraid of me," she said. "It's all right. It's smart to be. You want to be sure that I have no ill will toward you or Camelot."

She felt her temper getting away from her, so she rose from her seat to leave.

"No, I - " Taio stuttered.

"It's fine," Emma cut him off. "Why I've done what I've done is none of your business. As for how, well, I thought that was obvious. I didn't have a choice."

"Miss Swan, I apologize for any offense," Taio said.

"Don't worry about it," she replied. "Good day."

 

She wondered if steam was pouring out of her ears. Emma turned down the thankfully empty corridor and walked as quickly as she could.

The farther she went, the more she realized that meetings like this would soon be her life. Her parents rallied hundreds of people to rescue her, and the price had been her secret. Anyone who didn't know she was the Dark One yet would soon hear of it.

"I did tell you this would happen," Nimue said, appearing from nowhere.

Silver mist surrounded her, and Emma teleported back to her private chambers.

"You can't outrun me," Nimue continued as she appeared by the door. "I'm inside of you, Emma."

"Go away."

"Do you have some trouble with the word 'inside'?" Nimue asked. "I can't go away. We're bound together."

"Then disappear or whatever it is you do when I don't have to look at you," Emma snarled.

"There's no need for unpleasantness," Nimue said. "I told you that when you crawled out of that statue, the Savior of the Realm would be gone."

"That's a lie. I still have my light magic," she replied. "You were just messing with my head."

"Did I say your light magic would disappear?" Nimue asked. "No, I said the Savior of the Realm would be gone. Soon everyone will know that you are the Dark One. Tell me, who would call on you to save their village then? Light magic or no, you cannot be the Savior of the Realm when the entire realm is too terrified to request your help. Like an eclipse, the Dark One will blot out that old part of your life."

"So what?" Emma asked. "I can still save people."

Nimue laughed. "You don't understand, do you? All the realm will fear you, and what people fear, they either seek to destroy or control. They'll turn on you, Emma Swan, and you'll have no recourse but to defend yourself. That will be all that it takes for the few who still believe in the Savior to see you as nothing more than a monster."

Hearing her worst fears announced as a dire portent did nothing for Emma's temper. She wanted destroyed Nimue, but she was little more than an annoying apparition. There was nothing there to harm.

"You'll see, Emma," Nimue said when Emma did not reply. "I promise you, you will."

"Why are we having this conversation?"

"What ever do you mean?"

"According to you, all this bad stuff will happen, no matter what I do," Emma replied. "It's just a matter of time."

"You have been paying attention."

"But if that were true," Emma continued. "Why bother having this conversation at all?"

Nimue faltered, but she replied, "So when the time comes, you'll know who you can trust."

"I'll never trust you."

Nimue shook her head and sighed as she pulled the hood up over her gilded face. She then spoke calmly, "Maybe you're not ready yet, but don't worry. We have forever together. One day, your parents will be gone. So will your pirate and even your own son. All I have to do is wait."

And then she vanished, leaving her last words to haunt Emma.

She imagined a world where her family was gone, and the idea alone was enough to crush her. No matter what she did, as the Dark One, she'd live forever, which meant losing everyone she loved now and ever would.

She collapsed on her bed, grief stricken and overwhelmed. She tried to calm herself, but she didn't know how.

"Mom?"

She sat up and saw Henry standing by the door.

"Hey, kid," she replied. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, what about you?" he asked. "I knocked for like ten minutes. Didn't you hear me?"

"No," she replied. She quickly came up with a lie, "I was trying to meditate. I guess it worked. I thought you were going out riding today."

"Yeah, Granpa and Grandma took me out, but we came back for dinner," Henry replied.

Emma balked. Had she been lying in her chamber all afternoon? It only felt like a few moments.

"Time must've gotten away from me," she said. "How was it?"

"It was great," he replied. "I got to ride a knight's horse, this huge gray mare named Silver."

Emma stood up and quickly tidied her hair to make herself presentable for dinner.

"Too wrinkly?" she asked Henry, indicating her outfit.

"Mom, I don't think leather can wrinkle."

"You know what I mean," she pressed.

"You look fine," he said. "The Captain told me he felt better and was going to go, so that means you're coming too, right?"

"I think I've met my quota for hiding from social events for the week," she replied jokingly.

"You know, Mom, it's okay," Henry said. "It's okay to be scared. You always told me that."

"Yeah, kid, because it's true."

"No, I mean, it's good that you're scared," he said. "Grampy was never scared of being the Dark One. Maybe if he had been, Dad would still be here."

The back of her throat tightened at the mention of Neal.

"Mom? You okay?"

"Yeah, Henry," she replied. "I think I need a minute. You go ahead without me."

"You sure?"

"I just need a minute," she repeated.

"Okay, see you there," he said before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

In the next instant, the tears she had been holding back spilled down her cheeks. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be in a Land without Magic living ordinary lives. And Neal? He should've lived to see his grandchildren and great grandchildren.

She could've found a way to deal with things in the Enchanted Forest if no one had found out about her becoming the Dark One. She might've had a real shot at living with the darkness, but now...

Emma couldn't tell if she was crying out of sadness or anger, but whatever she was feeling overwhelmed her as she fell to the floor.

She fought to regain her composure. She was expected at dinner. With all her power and titles, the very least she could do was keep her word to her son and join him for a meal.

 _This is Arthur's fault,_ she thought to herself. _If it wasn't for him and his obsession with that stupid sword, then my secret would be safe and I'd still have a chance. But no. He stole my dagger and went after Henry. He nearly got me killed. He's the reason Killian lost his hand. He's worse than the Crocodile ever was._

At some point during her thoughts, she had gotten to her feet. The more she honed her hatred for Arthur, the stronger she became. She washed her face and changed her clothes to make herself presentable for dinner.

She smiled in the mirror. She looked normal, like her old self.

Emma knew what she had to do now. She'd go to dinner as she'd promised her son. She'd make small talk and be kind to those around her.

Then she'd rebuild Excalibur and use it to cut off Arthur's head.


	2. Chasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma attempts to remedy her circumstances by seeking her own justice. Killian speaks to an imprisoned Arthur.

Killian's heart sank when he saw Henry arrive at the dining hall without his mother. If the lad couldn't rouse her for dinner, who could?

"Don't worry, Captain," Henry said as he sat down. "Mom's coming. She just needed some time to get ready."

"Good work, lad," he replied.

"Don't get too excited, this is just the first part of Operation Viper."

Killian couldn't recall hearing of any such thing before, and his facial expression must've betrayed his confusion.

Henry continued, "You know, the plan to help my mom overcome the Dark One."

"When must we handle serpents?" the pirate asked.

"Never, that's just the codename," the boy replied. "It'll keep people from figuring out what we're talking about."

"And who else is part of this clandestine operation?"

"Right now, just you and me."

"I'm honored that you chose to confide in me, lad," Killian said fondly. 

"Am I interrupting something?"

They turned around to see Emma adorned in fine leather garments. Something about her beyond her clothing had changed since he had last seen her this morning.

Killian stood and offered her his chair, allowing her to sit between him and her son. She gave him a warm smile that made his heart flutter in anticipation. Then they began talking about Henry's afternoon ride.

The dining hall filled with people. Her parents sat opposite them at the table, and they talked about journeying home in a few days. When they asked Henry, Emma, and Killian to join them, his heart nearly skipped a beat. He hadn't had this for a very long time, a family. Part of him wondered if he had one now or if it was all in his head, but it disappeared when Emma agreed to go.

Perhaps his earlier concerns were misplaced.

As the dinner went on, he became very aware of how close he was to her. It took him a moment to realize the cause: her hand on his thigh, rubbing gently. He turned to her and saw the edge of her mouth curling up in a smirk.

The bloody minx was doing it on purpose.

The courses moved at an agonizingly languid pace, as if the universe decided to slow time down to prevent him from experiencing anything more than her light, tortuous touches.

* * *

Emma had planned to entertain at dinner, though she expected it to be a dreadful and dreary affair. Instead, it was surprisingly easy to convince everyone around her that she was doing much better.

Some time after the appetizers, she lost track of what she came here to do.

It wasn't entirely her fault. Killian was incredibly distracting, with his curved lips and wandering eyes. What harm could come from indulging? She could save her cake and eat it, too.

Or, rather, she could seduce her pirate and decapitate Arthur with his own sword afterwards.

As dinner wound down to dessert, Emma offered to escort Killian to the Healer's Chamber for his nightly checkup and redressing. So while her parents, Henry, and Regina left for a late night stroll in the garden, she and her pirate walked the long corridors of Camelot's castle.

They didn't get very far before he pushed her against a wall and captured her in a ferocious kiss. Her hands suddenly had a mind of their own, stroking up his arms and curling around the back of his neck. It felt like it had been ages since they touched, and every part of her buzzed with excitement.

His hand slipped down her back and cupped her ass as he pressed himself into her. The kiss broke as they both gasped for air, and she saw his eyes black with desire.

She pushed him away.

"If you won't let me heal you, then you need to go to the Healer's Chambers," Emma said.

"Well played, love," he replied.

She took his wrist and led the way.

 

Emma was surprised that Killian made it through the checkup and bandage change without complaint. He remained calm and polite, as if he wasn't anxious to leave and engage in more pleasurable activities.

After the Healer advised him to take it easy and said he could begin wearing his hook as early as tomorrow, they departed. He walked so slowly and deliberately that she began to wonder if he still intended to join her in bed.

But when they stopped by her door, he wrapped his left arm around her back and drew her in, lifting her off her feet and bringing her into a deep, passionate kiss. She gasped in surprise, and her parted lips afforded Killian's tongue the perfect opportunity. Her hands gripped the back of his head and shoulder, her fingers sinking into him so deep they bruised.

She felt her back hit the wall, and his body pressed into hers as his hand cupped her cheek. They broke apart to gasp for air, and his forehead touched hers as he leaned into her.

"Is it safe to say I can expect you tonight, Swan?" he asked, his breath warming her ear. 

As soon as her feet touched the floor, she pushed passed him, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him bodily into her room, abandoning all social niceties and pretense. She had spent too long hiding and obfuscating the truth about the people she loved.

With a wave of her hand, she slammed the door behind them and barred it. What did name and reputation matter to the Dark One? If that title alone would taint everything she had ever worked for, the least she could do was use it as a shield. Who would so much as raise an eyebrow at the Dark One taking a pirate as her own?

If Killian had any issues with the situation's propriety, he didn't show it. He began undoing her blouse with his good hand as the left arm curled behind her lower back and brought her closer. His lips started at her forehead, and he continued down her cheek, nibbling on the lobe of her ear before continuing to her neck.

She groaned as he nipped playfully at her collarbone, spurring her to unbutton his vest and shirt at the same time, throwing them to the floor as she shoved him back toward her bed.

She wanted him, but it was more than that. He had held the Dark One dagger when her name was newly minted. He knew what she was, yet he rode to her and pledged himself to her, despite his hatred for the previous Dark One. He had been unafraid of her, and soon he might be the only one in the realm brave enough to remain at her side.

So she made a show of shrugging off her top before she came in close and kissed his neck, nibbling down one side until she reached his chest. He groaned as her lips closed around one nipple, pinching it gently with her teeth before soothing it with her tongue. 

Then his hand was in her hair, pulling her up into another kiss, and she slid her hand down to his trousers, cupping his erection through he fabric before slipping her hand inside and wrapping around his generous length.

"Bloody hell."

* * *

Killian found it increasingly difficult to keep up with his Swan, and she certainly wasn't making it any easier when she began to stroke his length from inside his trousers. After nearly losing her to Pan's Last Curse, all he'd wanted was to have her in his arms, to feel her skin on his, to drink in every part of her, but his injury prevented him. Truth be told, it was the only thing slowing him down.

She must've noticed because she changed her tactics. He bit back his needy whimper when she released him. She guided him across the bed by his shoulders, and she stared at him as she spread him out, devouring him with her eyes. She continued to do so was she sensually removed the last of his clothing.

He gasped as cool air hit his erection when it sprung out of his clothing, red and ready.

He lost his mind when she stepped back to look over his nude form and licked her lips like a hungry lioness. It was a sinful sight that made him groan in anticipation.

"Captain, I've barely touched you," she said playfully as her fingers trailed down his body. "Is it too much? Should we stop?"

"You bloody well not!" 

He wrapped his legs around her waist and sat up to pull her into a crushing kiss. She welcomed his tongue into her mouth, letting him take the lead.

Killian snuck his hand down her glorious torso and unbuckled her belt, but the effort distracted him. Emma jockeyed for the upper hand, pressing him back against the bed. Her hands everywhere, caressing, scraping, rubbing. He was quickly overwhelmed and yielded to her knowing touch. She pinned him to the mattress and straddled him. 

"You need to understand one thing, Captain."

"What's that, love?"

She gave him a smile that was both wicked and sensual. It sent a chill up his spine. 

"You're mine."

She stood and shucked her pants, leaving her bare, her milky white skin radiant before his eyes, save for her dark undergarments. Then she climbed onto the bed, kneeling over him before she brought their centers together. He groaned as she grinded down on him, the thin fabric a maddening barrier between them.

He brought her down into another kiss, gently tugging at her lower lip with his teeth to distract her. Then he flipped them and began nibbling his way down her neck, leaving tiny marks with his teeth. She wrapped her legs around him, rutting against him.

His blood was burning for her, and he nearly tore her bra off in his desperation to have her has hot and ready as he was. She arched into him as he sucked on a pebbled nipple. Euphoria hit him as he got caught up in her scent and the tang of her skin. He met her eye before descending, gently kissing her as he went until he dragged his teeth down her hipbones. She moaned and thrust up unexpectedly, affording him the opportunity to remove the last barrier between them.

Emma flipped them again. Her hand came up under his chin, and their eyes met. 

"You're mine," she said.

She moved one hand to the center of his chest while the other grabbed his cock and lined them up. She never broke eye contact as she slowly slid down and engulfed him in hot wetness that made him his back bow.

"You're mine," she repeated when he was buried to the hilt.

"Yours," he replied, his hand grabbing her hip as he thrust up for more.

She pushed herself up, holding him down as she circled her hips, dragging deep moans from both of them. He pushed back at first, trying to reach up and hold her, to bring her into another kiss, but she kept him pinned. He acquiesced, giving in to her completely and letting her set the pace.

He could hardly complain. Emma was giving him quite a show, her bosom bouncing with every move as her eyes remained resolutely fixed on his face. Her gaze was so intense that it stirred something inside him, and he saw something much like it staring back at him.

Killian wasn't a fool. He had known how he felt for Emma Swan for a long time. A few weeks after he met her, he woke up one morning and knew his heart belonged to her, but he never thought the feeling could be mutual. She was, at her core, a good person who did everything she could to protect those she loved. They had a connection, that much was undeniable, but she put up walls and kept him at arm's length. She wanted him, and she cared for him, but he wasn't foolish enough to hope she'd love him back.

But right now, as she moved above him, he wondered if he'd been mistaken. It gave him hope, hope for a future, their future.

Emma began to ramp up the pace, and that familiar tingling in his spine told him he was close. He snaked his good hand to her clit and began tapping and circling in time with her thrusts. She moaned his name and picked up the pace till they moved together frantically. His balls tightened as she rode him harder, faster, pushing him over the edge, and he came yelling her name. She climaxed with him, his name a faint whisper from her as she panted for breath.

Then she collapsed over him, her sweaty breasts cushioning his chest as she shimmied up and attack him with her lips, locking him into a frenzied afterglow that took his breath away.

"Your mine," she whispered in his ear.

"Yours, love," he replied. "Always yours."

* * *

Emma fell into a light sleep afterwards, and she woke to find herself wrapped in Killian's arms with the sheets around them. He was out cold, his heart beat slow but strong.

Many people commented on the serenity of those asleep, but looking at him now, he didn't seem peaceful. No, he seemed happy and just a little smug, despite not being conscious to express either emotion.

It made her smile, but it wasn't enough to distract her. She made a plan before dinner, and the longer she avoided it, the higher the likelihood of someone discovering her intent and trying to stop her.

And she couldn't have that.

She dressed quickly, scribbled a quick note for Killian, and placed it on his bedside table. Then she began the night's real work.

She gathered her dagger from the Jolly Roger and the rest of the broken sword from her room. She took a moment to change into fresh attire, and it occurred to her that reforming the sword could be messy business. Best to do it far from prying eyes.

So she teleported to a clearing in the woods, the one where she and Pan battled.

Emma put the dagger and sword on the ground, the broken edges touching each other as if she were completing a puzzle. She reached inside herself and produced the Spark of Life, a blazing ember that lit the surrounding area, so much so that the trees began to cast shadows.

She held her breath. This was it. She would build Excalibur and then cut off Arthur's head. Then justice and vengeance would be served.

She levitated the sword and dagger and channeled the fire within the spark, melting the edges until the two broken weapons became one and whole. The handle of the dagger vanished, uniting with the base of the sword.

The spark burned hot, but it completed its work without burning out. Instead, it illuminated the completed sword, which was a thing of danger and absolute beauty. She adored Excalibur. It was a wonder to her that she had done that, put this incredible thing back together. Somehow, she had been the one to bring this thing back into the world.

She cast the Spark of Life into her pocket and went to take the sword for herself.

It was then that she noticed that the emblazoned 'Emma Swan' no longer marred the blade. Her name was gone.

"That's right," Nimue said, peering out from the shadows. "Gone."

"What have you done?" Emma demanded.

"Me? I've done nothing."

"Then what are you doing here?"

Nimue smiled and replied, "It's not just me."

Emma realized that she was surrounded by hooded faces. Each one stood in the shadows, staring at her with gleaming eyes. There were dozens of them, maybe even hundreds. It was too dark for her to tell.

"We all came," Nimue continued. "We're all so proud of you, Emma Swan."

 _"The most powerful Dark One,"_ a chorus of voices whispered, creating an eerie hiss like rustling leaves.

"You've done the one thing none of us ever could," Nimue explained. "You freed yourself from the dagger."

_"No one will ever control you. No one can ever kill you."_

"You're lying," Emma said. "You're not real. None of you are real!"

"We are very real, Emma Swan," Nimue replied. "The entire line of Dark Ones, from me the first, to you the last. We are all real, Emma, because we all live within you. Now that there is no weapon to control you, no weapon made to kill you, you are truly immortal, and the last of the Dark One line. As long as you live, so do we."

"No, you're just trying to get into my head again," Emma spat back. "And I won't let you."

"Do you believe that this was truly _your_ plan, Emma?" she asked. "To remake Excalibur and kill Arthur with it?"

"He deserves it," Emma snapped.

"And you'll never hear me disagree about that, but surely you could've killed him with your own sword. Or the pirate's cutlass, perhaps. Or one of your many knives. Or your magic. Or your bare hands. If killing Arthur was truly your goal, you could've swooped into his cell, snapped his neck, and gone straight to dinner after."

Nimue's casual reference to the time Emma made her plans was unsettling, and every word she spoke was the truth. Yes, killing Arthur with his own obsession had a ring of poetic justice, but it also meant he'd live to see the Excalibur restored. He didn't deserve to have that kind of joy, even in the last few seconds of his life.

"Can't you feel us?" Nimue asked as she stepped into the clearing. "All those dark thoughts in your head, all those demons whispering into your ear, that's us."

The hooded figures came closer, enclosing her in a ring.

"Don't be afraid," Nimue continued. "You have made the Dark One eternal, and now you reap the reward. Take the power, Emma Swan. Take the sword."

_"Take the power. Take the sword."_

The hissing whispers of the hooded Dark Ones repeated over and over again as they came closer and closer, overwhelming her senses.

Emma didn't dare show them how terrified she was, but she couldn't hide her fear from herself. She was afraid that Nimue was telling the truth, that she had unwittingly destroyed the only thing in the world that could control her, and in so doing she condemned herself to an eternity of isolation, inheriting the darkness of those who came before her, never to be rid of the burden.

She couldn't let this happen. She wouldn't let it happen.

As the chorus of Dark Ones closed in, Nimue reached for Excalibur, and Emma screamed, throwing up her hands and unleashing a blast so powerful that it knocked the nearest trees down, uprooting them completely. The Dark Ones were blown back into the shadows, disappearing into the blackness in the distance, leaving only Emma and Excalibur.

Nothing had touched Excalibur yet, as Emma had kept it levitated, and she knew - though she didn't know how she knew - that touching the newly forged sword would create a fierce connection, allowing its warrior to wield its power as well as its blade.

That was why Nimue and the other Dark Ones came here. They wanted to force her to touch Excalibur by making her think she was protecting it from them because, if she did take the sword, she would absorb its power. 

Her mistake left her feeling hopeless, but she was far from helpless. She could protect the sword without feeding the other Dark Ones.

"Return to the rock from whence you came!" Emma commanded Excalibur.

The sword vanished.

* * *

Killian was disappointed to find his bed Swanless when he woke, but her note about breakfast made him smile. Thus, he dressed and left his chamber quite happy.

But she hadn't been at breakfast. He went to her room but found nothing to suggest she had been there recently. 

He bit his lip in frustration. Why leave him a note about breakfast if she had planned to be elsewhere? Had she simply been delayed, or had something gone completely awry? Was last night a final farewell?

His stomach dropped. No, that couldn't be it. She wouldn't abandon him like that. She must've set out to do something, and whatever it was, she needed to do it alone in the middle of the night.

That was how he wound up in the dungeon. He was almost disheartened to discover Arthur alive and well in his cell.

"Did Emma come here to see you?" Killian demanded.

Arthur stared at him blankly, and for the first time, Killian saw how hollow the man looked. Age had carved his eye sockets deep and wide, and his expression was miserable and listless. 

"Can you hear me?" Killian asked, raising his voice. "Did Emma Swan come to see you?"

"Why would she?" Arthur replied softly.

"I can think of a few reasons," he said. "To taunt you. To get revenge. To give you a piece of her mind. To ask why."

"Why?"

"Indeed, why," Killian repeated. "Should I be using smaller words?"

When Arthur spoke, his eyes moved continuously, never focusing on one thing. 

"I pulled the sword out of the stone," Arthur said. "My destiny. The man who pulls the sword from the stone will reunite the Broken Kingdom. There I was, fifty years ago, a young man ready to take the responsibilities bestowed on me at birth, and the blade I drew was broken. It was like a sick jock, a mockery. A broken sword for a Broken Kingdom. For so long, I thought it was me. I thought my dalliance with Amelia had sullied me, made me unfit. I was sent to Maldonia to serve her husband, so I, above all others, should've respected her marriage vows."

Arthur dropped his head back, as if speaking to the ceiling. He continued in a soft, broken voice, "But she was beautiful, lonely, and so easy to seduce, and I was weak. A little affection and she welcomed me into her bed on every possible occasion. I made excuses for myself each time. 'Why deny the Duchess a pleasure her husband should be sharing with her?' Or, 'He should keep a better eye on his wife.' Or, 'The sin falls on her. She is the adulteress.' Honor didn't matter to me, not until she was with child. She had led me to believe that her husband hadn't touched her in months. He was no fool. He'd soon learn the truth, and Amelia's lover would pay."

"So I ran," he said, closing his eyes for a few moments as he continued. "I fled Maldonia, and when the soldiers found me and questioned me, I told them I wasn't fit to be a knight. I couldn't tell them the truth, but neither did I have a lie prepared. So they dragged me back to complete my training, and I was certain it was only a matter of time before the Duke dragged me to the hangman's noose. But then the announcement went out that the Duchess was with child. The little prince or princess would be the pride and joy of the Duchy. I received an honorarium for my service a few months later and returned to Camelot to complete my knighthood before the child was ever born."

"You abandoned your own son," Killian said. "Years later, you offered him to the Dark One like he was a goblet or perhaps a fine horse."

"I did what I had to!" Arthur snapped. "I spent my youth sacrificing everything to be worthy of ruling this kingdom, and I spent countless years trying to mend the sword. And when I discovered that I could trick the Dark One into restoring my kingdom, something I had been too distracted by my quest to do on my own, I made the deal. Because my duty is to my people. All I ever wanted was to fulfill that duty and prove myself to Merlin by restoring the sword."

"I may not be royalty, mate," Killian said. "But I was a naval officer and a captain., so take it from a pirate. A leader can't have everything. You could've led your people as a king or fixed a magic sword to prove yourself to a long-dead wizard. To a man who truly desires to lead and protect his people, it's obvious what choice you should have made. Instead, you attempted both, and for that reason, failed both."

Arthur finally met his eye, and Killian saw the madness he harbored flickering like a candle flame. His obsession pushed him to desperate measures, and his failures drove him to grief. Had he been anyone other than Arthur, Killian might've felt badly for the man.

"Did Emma come to see you?" Killian asked again.

"No," Arthur replied. "Though I pray she will come and end it all for me."

Killian stormed out of the dungeon more concerned than angry. Lunch time was fast approaching, and yet he still had no sign of Emma. 

He returned to his chamber, and he found Emma curled up in fetal position on his freshly-made bed.

"Swan?" he asked. "Are you all right, love?"

She shook her head, no, and he joined her on the bed, wrapping himself around her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"She tricked me."

"Who did, love?"

"Nimue," Emma replied. "She got into my head and tricked me."

"Whatever it is, Emma, we can make it right," Killian said, holding her.

"No, we can't," she whimpered.

"Tell me."

"I remade Excalibur," she replied. "Nimue made me think I wanted it to kill Arthur. She tried to make me claim it."

"But you didn't?"

"No, I sent it back to its stone," she said, shaking as tears flooded down the side of her face.

"That's good, isn't it, love?" he asked. "She tried to trick you into taking the sword, and you didn't."

"Except she didn't want me to have the sword. She wanted me to send it somewhere I could never get it," she replied. "She made me think I was protecting it. I swear Killian, that's what I thought I was doing."

"Swan, it's all right, we - "

"No," she interrupted. "The dagger is gone, so no one can control the Dark One anymore. The sword was the only thing that could cut the darkness out of me, Killian. And I sent it away!"

Killian strained to remember the lore of the sword in the stone. Only a hero pure of heart and worthy of ruling Camelot could free the blade.

"What about your mother and father?" he suggested. "Or Henry. Surely one of them is fit to draw the sword."

She turned over quickly, her expression full of menace.

"I will never let my son touch that sword!" she replied harshly. "Those unworthy who dare try are turned to dust!"

His heart sank, and she put her head on his shoulder and sobbed.


	3. Wanderlust

Killian held Emma long after she stopped crying. Of course, he wanted to ask a thousand questions. Who the bloody hell was Nimue? How did Emma manage to forge Excalibur? And what did she mean by cutting out the darkness?

But he had never seen her so devastated, and he couldn't bring himself to ask her anything. She buried her face in his chest, and his desire to comfort her eclipsed everything else.

It wasn't until his stomach roared loudly that he realized he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and it was surely dinner time now.

"You're hungry," Emma whispered quietly.

"I'm fine," he replied.

"You should go to dinner," she said.

"Only if you accompany me."

She shook her head, no.

"Very well, then I shall stay here with you a little longer," he replied. "I'm sure the kitchens would be willing to provide me with something later this evening."

She looked up at him, her eyes somehow clear, as if she hadn't being sobbing, and she began to tell him everything.

She started with something she called her 'shadow-self,' which they had spoken of before. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but the fact remained that he, Emma, and apparently the Author had seen this other version of Emma. He had assumed she was a dream, but the Author had spoken with her a very long time ago with no cause to dream of Emma Swan.

Before he could ask, Emma began to tell him about Nimue. As he listened, he secretly became quite glad that his hunger was obvious, for it masked the anxious churning of his stomach that erupted at the idea of inner demons manipulating Emma. She paused from time to time to give him the opportunity to comment or to ask questions, but he held his tongue and simply waited for her to continue.

Emma told him about Nimue's taunts and trickery and her own fears about what she might become. She explained to him several times her reasons for casting Excalibur back into its stone, and after the third explanation, Killian realized that she was attempting to convince him, as if she thought he'd think her a liar.

"I understand," he said quietly. "You have an entire line of demons haunting you, some of whom are ancient, Swan."

"You believe me?" she asked weakly.

"Aye, love," he replied. "I've no reason to doubt you."

"Killian, I don't know what to do," she explained. "Now everyone knows I'm the Dark One, and without the dagger or the sword, there's nothing that can stop me."

"You said Excalibur could cut the darkness from you?" Killian asked.

"The other version of me said so," she replied. "She told me that Nimue and the other Dark Ones were afraid of me restoring Excalibur and cutting away the darkness."

"Can you speak with this other version of yourself now?" he asked. "She clearly knows more about the sword than anyone else. Perhaps she knows who is meant to draw Excalibur." 

"She left," Emma replied.

"Then perhaps our next adventure will be to contact her," he suggested. "Any ideas where to start looking?"

"Neverland."

* * *

Emma had hesitated before confiding in Killian, worried that he'd be angry with her for hiding things from him or, worse, decide she must be a mad woman. But after she realized that Nimue's intention all along was to cast the sword back into the stone, she needed someone to believe her. She needed someone to see the darkness for what it was, or Nimue would take advantage again.

So she went to Killian expecting an argument.

But there wasn't one. He held her until she was ready to speak, and he didn't interrupt her or ask her questions. He just listened, and before long everything came pouring out of her.

Killian didn't even flinch; instead, he offered to escort her on her journey to Neverland.

She acquired a late night meal from Camelot's kitchens, as she was the reason he skipped both lunch and supper. Then they curled up in his bed for the remainder of the night, and she found herself relaxing into his body as he slept. Every time her fears of Nimue crept up on her, she focused on Killian's steady breathing and it dissipated.

By the time the sun rose, Emma had made up her mind. She needed answers, and her shadow-self had them.

So she told her family that she needed to do some soul searching before she settled down in the Enchanted Forest. She could tell that they were all concerned about her sudden wanderlust, but they didn't ply her with questions. Emma wondered if Killian had gone to them first to put them off their usual interrogation tactics.

Then she gave Henry an enchanted mirror so he could contact her across realms and promised him a few good stories upon her returned.

After that, Emma had to find a new way to remove her own shadow and hide Excalibur, so she visited the Apprentice's residence. He wasn't home, but he had left her a tray of biscuits and a note. He not only expected her visit, but he also anticipated her question.

She scribbled a hasty reply about leaving the sword in the stone in his basement before returning to Killian.

"That didn't take long," Killian said. "Are we ready, love?"

"Are you sure you want to come with me?"

"Where else would I go?"

"Anywhere," she replied. "You could find a new crew, pirate or privateer."

"And who would hire a three-hundred-year-old pirate with one hand and a drinking problem?" he asked playfully.

"Queen Guinevere," Emma replied. "My parents or my sister. The Maritime Kingdom would certainly take you in."

"Aye, love, and then what?" he asked.

"You could travel. I'm sure you'd be welcomed in the Land of the Giants. If you think about it, Killian, you could go anywhere in the Enchanted Forest. You could go home."

"The Jolly Roger is my home," he replied. "And there's no place I'd rather be than at your side."

He extended his arm for her, but instead of taking it, she wrapped both arms around him and brought her lips up to his, tasting the salty rum and butter of his breath as gray mists surrounded them and transported them to the deck of the Jolly Roger.

"A man could get used to traveling like that," he said.

With that, she cast her shadow from her body with the spell the Apprentice left for her, and the Jolly was carried into the sky, bound for Neverland.

* * *

Killian did not like the idea of returning to Neverland, but if this other version of Emma had any answers to give, it was a journey they had to make.

He stood at the helm of the Jolly Roger as she touched down on the open sea with the dawning rays of the morning, and he steered for the landmass due south without giving their surroundings much consideration. But, as they approached, he saw a beautiful beach on one side and a rocky cove that stretched back into a fine mountain range on the other.

He'd never been here before.

Killian's first thought was that he must be dreaming. His second was that he'd somehow steered the ship to the wrong realm, which made no sense because Emma's shadow was the one carrying the vessel hence.

"Swan, I believe we need to adjust our bearings and try again," he said apologetically. "I'm unsure of where we've touched down, but this isn't Neverland."

"Not the one you remember," Emma replied as she wrapped her arms around him. "We probably shouldn't call it Neverland anymore anyway, now that Peter Pan is gone."

"So the story the lad read to me was true?" Killian asked. "About the first realm of dreams?"

"As true as any story can be," Emma replied.

"It's beautiful," he said, taking in the landscape.

"Don't get used to it," someone called out.

The speaker was leaning against the main mast with her arms crossed in front of her. He could tell from the voice that it was a woman, but she wore a hood that covered her face.

"The landscape, I mean," the woman continued. "It's constantly changing these days. One minute, you're on a deserted tropical island, and the next, you're standing on a frozen tundra. Happily, your ship seems quite resilient to shifts that would strand her on land. Do you think it's the enchanted wood or stubbornness inherited from her Captain?"

As a reflex, Killian inwardly cursed that there was yet another person aboard his ship without his permission, but before he could comment on the stranger's poor form, she tilted her head back.

It was Emma Swan, clad in leather garments including a high-collared vest. Her hair was bleached white and her skin, without color, yet there was no mistaking the familiarity of her features.

"I knew you'd come," shadow-Emma said.


	4. Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Killian travel to Neverland seeking Emma's shadow-self, hoping to find answers. Killian learns about his origins and his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings** : This chapter contains a volatile manipulation involving a lot of lying and a contract that promises a newborn baby. The exchanges for this backstory are abusive/painful/evil.

Emma hadn't expected her shadow-self to appear as soon as they arrived. She assumed there would be obstacles to such a quest, and she was unnerved by their immediate success. 

"Who are you?" Killian asked.

"Emma Swan," her shadow-self replied.

"I'm Emma Swan," Emma said.

"Yes."

"How is that possible?" she asked.

"Magic," her shadow-self replied.

"That's not an answer," Emma said fiercely. "You said you had answers. That's why we're here."

"I understand, and I promise you, when we are done, you'll know everything I know."

Then her shadow-self laughed nervously.

"What's so bloody funny?" Killian inquired.

"I'm running out of _time_ ," shadow-Emma replied. All her focus went to him, as if he were the only person left in the world. "I wish I had more time to explain, Killian."

She produced a large dreamcatcher decorated with fisherman's knots and seagull feathers.

"You'll need this," she explained.

Killian gave Emma an uncertain look, as if requesting permission. She nodded at him, yes, and he accepted the dreamcatcher.

As soon as he touched it, the magic within woke and began to weave, encapsulating him. Emma tried to reach him, but the barrier threw her back.

"You will wake first," shadow-Emma said to Killian. "I promise you, she but sleeps. You need only wait."

Then he collapsed to the deck, pinning the dreamcatcher under his body.

Pure molten rage exploded inside Emma.

"Release him! Now!"

"You know how dreamcatchers work," her shadow-self explained. "He's absorbing the memories."

"It never takes this long."

"There's never been a dreamcatcher with so much to remember," shadow-Emma said. "Lifetimes of memories."

Emma grabbed hold of her shadow-self and was surprised to find that she was quite solid. She thrust her doppelganger against the mast of the ship, lifting her off her feet.

"You promise me answers and then curse my pirate with other people's memories?" Emma said. "Who are you?"

"Emma Swan," she replied hoarsely. "And those memories? They're his, Emma."

"If you don't tell me what you've done to him, I will kill you, even if it means killing myself in the process," Emma snarled. "Release him!"

Shadow-Emma didn't fight back or reply, so Emma brought her closer so that they were face to face, ready to strangle the vixen that dared harm the man who belonged to her.

But then shadow-Emma's lips touched hers, and her substance vanished under Emma's fingers. She became like a ghost, transparent and incorporeal.

"I told you I was running out of time," shadow-Emma whispered.

Slowly, her body transformed into shadows, like dark sand hovering in the air. She gave Emma a sad smile before her face disappeared.

Then each particle cascaded into Emma's body, borrowing inside through her pores, and her every nerve felt as if it were on fire. Agony that she had never known before consumed her flesh as her mind became a cacophony of voices and images she neither recognized nor acquired on her own.

As abruptly as it started, it stopped, and Emma Swan collapsed to the deck of the Jolly Roger, her limp body landing an arm's length from Killian's.

* * *

_A very, very long time ago..._ Killian opened his eyes. He was in his cabin, and he wasn't alone. His visitor refused to lift her veil, but the Sage was known for hiding her face. He placed a diamond on the table in front of her.

"As agreed," he said.

She reached out to take her payment, but he grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

"Payment remains where I can see it until I have what was promised," Killian said dangerously.

"Very well," the Sage replied.

She waved her hand and a parchment appeared out of nowhere, unrolling on the table front of him. From his first glance, he could tell the document had been written by a scribe or scholar, given the wording and the fineness of the penmanship.

Despite the clarity of the lettering, it took him several minutes to read it all, for it was a heavily phrased legal contract that promised the firstborn child of an individual only known as DG in return for the reunion of Marissa Jones and her unnamed husband. Upon the child's birth, he or she would be given to DG, who would become the sole guardian of the child forever. The names and signatures at the bottom were for one Marissa Jones and the mysterious DG.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Killian demanded.

"The reason you and your brother were abandoned aboard a ship," the Sage replied.

"Perhaps you misread my letter," he said harshly. "Or perhaps you need to invest in an assistant who can read fine print. My parents were Madeline and Brennan Jones. There's no mention of either on this parchment."

He nearly called for the crew to drag the lying cur off his bloody ship, but then she said something that turned his blood cold.

"Your parents changed their names before you were born. That was also when your family began to move from place to place."

Killian bit his tongue to prevent himself from lashing out at the Sage. Liam had told him that when his mother was pregnant with him, they started traveling the realm aimlessly.

"If my parents had changed their names, my brother would've told me," he said.

"Before you were born, their names were Davy and Marissa Jones," the Sage continued. "This is the last document I could find baring either of their names. It originated from an inland harbor village in the Maritime Kingdom."

"Wrong again, lass, my family never lived in the Maritime Kingdom."

"People come to me with unanswered questions," the Sage said simply. "But sometimes knowledge has its own price, so if you wish me to leave so that you can maintain your blissful ignorance, I would understand."

"Do you have proof of your claims, beyond this single contract?" he asked.

The Sage produced a stack of papers bound with twine.

"Speak quickly, and spare me your vague warnings," Killian said tersely.

"Brennan Jones, as you knew him, left this in the care of his hometown priest," she explained. "Most are naval contracts. Proof enough of your origin."

"Is he alive?" Killian asked.

"No," she replied. "He died not long after he abandoned you and your brother. He discovered this contract and realized what part it played in your mother's death."

"He left us for vengeance?"

"No," she replied. "Not vengeance alone. He left and died protecting you."

"My father abandoned my brother and I to a life of slavery! How did that protect us?"

"The man who abandoned you was not your father," the Sage continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "But he did die protecting you, as did your mother."

"Say that again," Killian said dangerously.

"The man who raised you is not your biological father," the Sage repeated.

The idea of having living kin stirred something inside Killian, but it was quickly overshadowed by the suggestion that his mother was an adulteress.

"I would never suggest such a thing without proof," she continued. "If you're willing, you need only hold this in your hands."

She laid out a hoop with ornate knots and webbing.

"Is that everything?" he asked, eyeing the magical artifact with mistrust. "Assuming your honesty, which is a big assumption on my part, did you perchance identify the man responsible for my conception?"

The Sage scrutinized him as if he had started speaking a foreign language. After several minutes passed without reply, he raised an inquisitive eyebrow and drummed his fingers on the desk.

"The contract is between your biological parents," she explained, selecting her words carefully.

"Ah, so my father is DG," Killian said. "I'll need more than his initials to find him, assuming he yet lives."

"Find him?" she repeated. "Captain Jones, your father is very much alive and looking for you. He's been looking for you since the day you were born. The only reason you're still free is because your mother went to great lengths to hide you from him."

"And why would she do that?"

The Sage snatched the diamond as she stood up and ran quickly to the door. Killian tackled her before she got there, pinning her against a wall.

"And where do you think you're going, love?"

"I've given you everything," the Sage replied. "If you're going to go looking for your father, then I require a head start."

"You haven't given me his bloody name yet!"

"And I won't!" she protested. "Why do you think the contract uses his initials only? Invoking his name is dangerous!"

"What kind of fool superstition is that?" he demanded as he relinquished his grip on her. "You can't speak a man's name or write it down for his own son?"

"Your father isn't a man!"

Killian knew when he contracted the Sage that he might learn unsavory things about his family, but saying no one dared speak his father's name was a step too far.

"I need a name!" he insisted. 

"If you hold the trinket I made for you, you'll know his name," the Sage replied. "You'll also see his face and hear his voice, along with that of your mother's."

Killian stepped back as his hand automatically went to the hilt of his cutlass. He never trusted magic much, and he had no patience for it since his brother's death. Yet the promise of seeing his mother's face was temptation enough to make him consider it.

"How can I be sure that this isn't a ruse?" he asked.

"If I was lying, I would've picked a name off a headstone," she replied. "And I'd pick one I could say out loud. I know how dangerous it is to slight a pirate, let alone a pirate captain."

It was entirely possible that this woman was not a Sage but a charlatan, which would explain why she kept her face covered. On the other hand, she would be easy enough to track down should he discover any falsehoods on her part.

"If you have lied to me or attempted to trick me in any way, there will be nowhere you can hide, Sage," he growled.

"Good day, Captain," she replied. "And... good luck."

The Sage darted out of the cabin, leaving Killian alone. He riffled through the papers first, but the promise of seeing his mother kept drawing his eye to the trinket.

So he took it in his hands, and foreign memories poured into him. He saw his father standing on the deck of The Good Sea Dragon as it set sail, waving goodbye to someone on the docks. It was his mother, frantically waving and blowing kisses with a young Liam on her shoulder.

In the blink of an eye, he stood before a small family cabin as a grim-faced messenger knocked. The same woman, his mother, answered the door with Liam beside her. It must've been several months later, as his brother had grown. Tears filled their eyes when the man announced that The Good Sea Dragon went down in a storm, and there were no survivors.

He didn't have long to process this information before he was standing in a very busy kitchen. It was as if time moved more quickly now, for he watched his mother work her fingers to the bone scrubbing dishes from noon until after dark. Liam was with her the whole time, assisting where he could, but he mostly kept out of the way. Killian then watched as his mother collected a paltry payment of six bronze coins.

Then he saw his mother in the market, her garments faded and patched but extremely well-kept. It reminded him of Liam fussing over his laundry, bemoaning every wrinkle and false crease that fell along his mended stitches.

His mother's eyes were wide and scared as she counted her coins. She had only enough for bread and a portion of beans, yet she made no attempt to barter or haggle.

"It's Marissa, isn't it?" a man asked.

She jumped at the sound of her name, turning to see the man who spoke to her. He was dressed as a man of means, not royalty but well-off, and Liam was standing in front of him, staring at the ground.

"Yes, hello," she replied. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

"My apologies," he said. "I'm Deacon Gallows."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Gallows. I'm Misses Marissa Jones," she said as she extended her hand.

He pressed a tender kiss into the back of her hand. "Misses Jones," he said. "I believe you know this young man?"

"This is my son, Liam."

"Is there any chance that boy's father around?" Deacon asked.

"No, sir," she replied.

"Maybe I could speak with him later today?" Deacon pressed.

"My husband is dead," she said. "He went down on The Good Sea Dragon."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," Deacon said contritely. "Though I suppose that would explain a lot. I spotted your son taking these."

He produced a small bag of turnips. Liam slumped his shoulders in shame, unwilling to meet his mother's eye.

"Liam, you didn't!" she hissed. "I raised you better than this!"

"If we had money, we'd buy it," Liam commented to the dirt.

"Do you think we are the only ones struggling to make ends meet?" she asked. "Every shop owner here has a family to feed, Liam."

"But they always have something to eat!" he replied defiantly. 

"That's no excuse for trying to steal," his mother continued. "They could take your hand for that!"

"Oh, no," Deacon said kindly. "Not that I wish to encourage this kind of behavior, but, he is the first boy I've ever seen stealing turnips. I doubted he simply couldn't resist the temptation, so I took care of it."

Deacon held out the bag to Marissa.

"No, I couldn't," she said. 

"I insist," he replied, and she took it.

"I will pay you back," she said. "On my word."

"Can you bake?" Deacon asked. "I only ask because I've been looking for someone to take over for months. Seems like every time I hire someone, they move away a few weeks later. It'd be nice to hire someone with roots here."

"That's very kind," she replied.

"Actually, it's not," he said playfully. "It's grueling work, baking. All that heat and fire everywhere. But it pays well. You could pay me back with one morning's work, assuming you're interested and not planning on moving away any time soon."

Marissa thanked him and promised to begin the next day.

The memories sped up again. Each day, Marissa saw Deacon while she was baking for his tavern. He paid her well and treated her as a gentlemen should. Killian watched as the man took an interest in Liam, and after a few months of courtship, things took their inevitable course.

Deacon was a man of discretion, protecting Marissa's reputation and keeping their relationship private. Beyond the uncomfortable factor of watching someone court his mother, he could find no fault with the man, especially since his mother invited his company.

Their relationship continued for several months, most of which flew by in the blink of an eye before it all came to an abrupt halt.

As was his wont, Deacon walked Marissa home after dark to ensure her safety, carrying a sleeping Liam on his shoulder.

"Would you ever consider marrying again?" he asked. When she cast him a wary glance, he added, "I mean, Liam here would make a great older brother. It'd be a shame if he never got the chance."

He fumbled his words, his playfulness not exactly softening the tense subject between them.

"You're right, he would have. I'd give anything to have him back," she said. Then Marissa stopped in her tracks as she realized what she'd just said. "I'm sorry, Deacon, that's not - "

"It's all right," he replied, interrupting. "He was your husband, and it hasn't even been a year. I didn't mean to... I shouldn't've said anything."

They continued walking in a painful silence until they reached the cabin. Normally, Deacon would hand Liam over to his mother, for a man entering a widow's home so late, even to carry her sleeping son to his bed, would be enough to suggest impropriety.

But tonight he didn't relinquish Liam as soon as they arrived, forcing Marissa to stand outside the door with him for a few more minutes.

"What if you could?" Deacon asked. "Have your husband back?"

"The dead stay dead," she replied automatically.

"You said you'd give anything," he pointed out. "Did you mean that?"

"Of course."

"You've been good to me," he whispered. "Sharing stories, food... your bed. But not your heart."

"Deacon, I - "

"No, please, let me finish," he insisted gently. "You're right to be cautious. There's something I haven't told you about myself. I suppose you already know that. Sensed it instinctually. I didn't mean to hide it from you, but it's not something that comes up in everyday conversation."

"Deacon, you've been so kind to Liam and I," she said. "You don't owe me an explanation."

"Oh, but I do," he replied. "I was born with a gift that I inherited from my father, and from time to time, I can use that gift to perform... well, miracles."

"Miracles?" Marissa repeated.

"I know it sounds impossible, but I assure you, it's not. You see Marissa, my mother was mortal, but my father was a god. I'm not allowed to discuss specifics, but I can, how shall we say... set things in motion."

"Are you saying you could bring my husband back?" she asked.

"Yes, but there are conditions," Deacon said. "You'd have to sign a contract trading something precious in exchange, and you can never tell anyone about this. Or us."

"But, if you did this, then, we couldn't be together anymore."

"I just want you to be happy," Dean said, finally handing Liam off to his mother. "You and Liam. And if you can't be happy with me, then the least I can do is make this happen for you. Reunite you with your husband."

"Where do I sign?" she asked.

He gave her a sad smile as he produced a blank sheet of parchment.

"I, uh, wasn't prepared for this, but I can fill it out after," he explained. "I will reunite you with your husband, and you will give me something precious. Agreed?"

Marissa didn't hesitate. She adjusted Liam so she could write, and then she hastily signed the bottom of the empty contract without question.

"If you can do this, Deacon, I'd owe you everything," she said breathlessly. 

"Goodnight, Marissa Jones," Deacon said. "Sleep well."

He stepped back and watched as she went inside and closed the door behind her.

Deacon smile widely. His eyes glowed as blue flame leapt from his scalp, and words filled the contract, as if an invisible hand penned it. The euphoria on his face was in complete contradiction to the resigned state he had just shown Marissa. 

"Pleasure doing business with you, Marissa Jones."

The blue fire went out, and he departed for the docks, walking too fast for a casual stroll. He made a beeline for the soldiers who stood guard at the boathouse.

"Pain and Panic," Deacon said. "Mission accomplished. Contract signed."

"Great boss!"

"Yeah, great boss!"

"Get ready to release our prisoner," Deacon ordered. "Make sure he finds his way home before dawn. I can't have her showing up for her shift tomorrow before fulfilling my end of the deal. That would be unimaginatively awkward."

Killian was jolted forward in time again. Marissa was sitting alone in an empty tavern at night, clutching a tearstained parchment in her shaking hands.

She leapt up when Deacon entered from the back room.

"Deacon, what is this?" she asked, holding the parchment out.

"Our agreement of course," he replied smoothly. "You said you'd give anything to have your husband back. I asked for something precious, and you didn't press me for details. I was assured that he returned home two days ago."

"But my husband wasn't dead!" Marissa protested. "He was only held captive by pirates!"

"Well, technically, I never said I would _resurrect_ him," Deacon pointed out. "To be totally honest, that's not really my thing. No, see, what I said was that I could get him back and reunite you, and you assumed that's what I meant. Check the contract. Reunion in exchange for baby. I fulfilled my end."

"You tricked me," she said with disbelief. "All to steal my baby? How could you do this?"

"First of all, it's _our_ baby," he said. "That's there in the contract. I mean, come on, like I'd want some other man's progeny. No, we made that baby together if you remember. Because I certainly do if you're up for a refresher. Don't worry, nine months from now when I come to get my child, he or she will want for nothing. That deity thing wasn't a lie."

"You will never have this child!" she shouted as she ripped up the contract and flung the pieces to the floor. "Even if it means I die before he's born!"

"Ooo, you think it's a boy? Any reason?" he taunted. "Oh, come on, Marissa, give me some credit. Do you really believe I'd go to all this trouble to procure a child and not take precautions? I think you'll find yourself quite indestructible until you give birth. Can't have anything happening to you till I collect my payment. Spoiler alert. You may also find yourself tongue-tied when attempted to speak of me, or us, or this contract here."

He snapped his fingers, and the contract reformed as if it had never been touched.

"By the way, this is just a copy," he explained. "When you make a deal with the devil, it's binding. Don't make this harder than it has to be, Marissa. We had a good time together, didn't we? I'd hate for our relationship to end on such a sour note. If you try to tell your husband - which you can't, but even if you could - how do you think he'd take our affair? Don't worry, it's not in my interest to tell him, and as long as you two, well, you know in the next week or two, he'll never know. You have my word. Deliver my child healthy to me, and no one will ever know about your transgressions while your husband was held captive by pirates. I'll make it so everyone thinks the baby was stillborn. Even you. M'kay? Oh, and I hope this isn't too awkward, but you're fired. All the important baking is done."

Marissa sobbed as Killian shifted into another memory. His mother was sitting in an odd sort of shack with a woman with red, curly hair.

"Can you help me?" Marissa asked.

"There is a potion, but the price is steep," the other woman replied.

"I can pay."

The woman shook her head. "I am not referring to the silver coin I require to brew it. All magic comes at a price. Saving your unborn child from a demon will cost you everything you are."

"You mean, it'll kill me?" Marissa asked.

"No," the woman replied. "It will rob you of your individuality, your sanity, and, eventually, your memories. If you go through with this, you won't be able to care for your child. You'll be lucky to live long enough to hold him or her."

Marissa asked, "Is there any other way?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"My husband will take care of him," Marissa stated firmly. "He'll be in good hands so long as I protect him from the demon. It's my fault. I have to stop it if I can."

"Very well. I will make you several bottles. You must take a spoonful everyday in the morning until you give birth."

Killian watched his mother hand over a silver coin as she wiped a tear from her cheek. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort her, to tell her than none of this was her fault. 

But then he was dragged away into a vortex of memories.

Everything in his life happened just as it had before. His father dragged them around for a few years before abandoning them on a ship. He and Liam struggled to make their own way, eventually becoming honorable men in the Royal Navy. Liam died of Dreamshade poisoning, and Killian took over the Jewel of the Realm, rechristening her The Jolly Roger. 

Years later, he met Milah and fell in love, so when she begged him to take her away from her miserable life, he happily obliged. They had nine splendid years together as pirates on the open sea before the Dark One murdered her and cut off his left hand. Killian sought vengeance, so he returned to the cursed realm of Neverland and became a servant of Peter Pan till he could kill the Dark One.

But then the memories shifted. Prince Neal never appeared in the Enchanted Forest, and the Evil Queen rose to power. Killian didn't bother rescuing Belle from Regina; instead, he struck a deal with her captor, only to double-cross Regina in favor of Cora. He planned to exact his revenge on the Dark One in a Land without Magic after the Dark Curse was cast.

His partnership with Cora led him to meet Emma Swan in the Enchanted Forest under less than honest circumstances, and hell if she didn't call him on every one of his lies without flinching. 

He had always loved a challenge.

Killian remembered climbing a beanstalk and sailing to another realm to a destination named Storybrooke. He flirted with Emma for no avail for years. He helped save Henry. He won her trust (but not her heart) before Regina had to reverse the original Dark Curse, forcing Emma to forget the Enchanted Forest. He traded his ship for a magic bean to return to her, and he fought by her side thereafter. They battled Zelena, an angry version of Ingrid, the Author, Cruella, Ursula, Maleficent, and the Dark One. The Darkness took Emma, and he crossed realms with her family to rescue her.

And then Emma made him the second Dark One to save his life, and the rest of the memories played out like something from his darkest nightmares: giving into the darkness and murdering Merlin, lashing out at Emma for trying to save him, and trying to kill everyone he cared for, all for an insignificant touch of revenge he could've achieved without Dark Magic. He redeemed himself with his final sacrifice, but the horror he inflicted couldn't be remedied by a single choice.

Killian remembered waking up in the Underworld at the feet of a stranger that he thought vaguely familiar.

"Killian Jones, I've been waiting for you."

"Apologies, mate, but you have me at a disadvantage," he replied. "I don't believe we've met."

"Hades," he said. "King of the Underworld, and, oh, also your father. Welcome home, son."

Hades's laughter was the last thing he heard before everything stopped. Killian woke up in Neverland, sprawled out on the deck of the Jolly Roger with a dreamcatcher in his hand. He was lying next to an unconscious Emma Swan.


	5. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma's shadow-self reveals the truth about the course of events leading to this moment, which goes back hundreds of years.

_Once upon a time,_ there was a traveling party on its way from one kingdom to another. Many have debated which kingdom whence and hence, but truth be told, it was a very, very long time ago when they set out on their journey. So long ago, in fact, that the kingdoms had different names, most of which have been lost to history.

The traveling party made haste, for in those days, it was said that the spirits of the departed haunted the fields and plains, wandering with spectral lights before them, drawing many a weary traveler away from their party. What became of such hapless souls thereafter, nobody ever discovered, but it was long believed that they became lost and confused until, ultimately, they died and joined the ghosts that had brought about their demise.

It was so widely believed, in fact, that the traveling party doubled back to camp in under the cover of trees rather than risk a visit from the will-o'-the-wisps.

But as the party neared their destination, their guide misread the map, assuring them that a single hard day's travel would end with their arrival. Thus, they pressed on until it was nigh dusk, and when they realized that they had no hope of arriving before nightfall, they did as they had before and doubled back to the closest cover of trees to hastily made camp, lest the phantoms ensnare some member of their company.

That night, when the moon was high in the sky, lights appeared. It seemed to be a second fire, set in a camp in the middle of the neighboring plains. Many wanted to warn their fellow travelers of the danger, but their guide intervened.

"Once you're led away, you don't come back," the guide warned them. "You can't go out there."

"You can smell the smoke," one traveler protested. "It's a true camp fire. We can't just leave them out there at the mercy of the spirits."

"Spirits?" the guide asked. "That's what you lot think they are? Rubbish. Me best mate had a better name, he called it _ignis fatuus_ , foolish fire. Called it that because only a fool would go wandering out in the dark after fire thinkin' it's a good idea. Few years later, we were leadin' a trip, much like this one, and don't you know? He spots a fire with real smoke, just like that one, and he thinks some poor fool just don't know what's what. So he went out to warn them, and he never came back."

Despite the guide's earlier misstep with the map, the traveling party listened to his counsel and retired to bed without further discussion. 

None noticed that they were one member short.

For, while they were debating how to handle the neighboring camp, someone had left to warn them. It was so long ago that her name was lost to history, but it was known that she was a young woman, brave in spirit and pure of heart. She refused to sit by and let others fall prey to a will-o'-the-wisps.

She walked a very great distance, but no matter how far she went, she never seemed to get any closer to the fire. She turned back to see how far she was from her own camp, only to discover that she could only see the faintest line of trees on the horizon. She looked for the fire again, but it had gone out. She was alone in the middle of an empty plain in the dark of night with nothing to guide her.

Then a light appeared, not too far ahead of her, so she followed it, but once she closed in on it, it went out. Soon there was another light, also not far away, and again she went to it. It continued on and on through the night, leading her deep into the woods, never to see her traveling party again.

Some say that the will-o'-the-wisp couldn't harm someone with so much good in her heart. Others say that the _ignis fatuus_ finally found a wanderer to entertain itself evermore. Still others claim that a dark sorcerer cursed the young woman with immortality, so that she would remain lost in the woods ever after.

No matter the reason, it is said that, to this day, the young woman wanders throughout the realm, following the impish ghostlights. They say that she lost her mind some time ago; thus, she whispers to herself as she goes on to the next light, her unintelligible message barely audible over rustling leaves. That is why, to this day, she is called the Whispering Woman.

Those who have laid eyes upon her claim that her skin is as white as the moon light with hair of nearly the same empty pigment. Those who have attempted to speak with her say that she flees in terror or attacks with maddening abandon.

And while details of her deportment and attire vary wildly among countless accounts, it was long ago concluded that this story must be truth. For from the day that the young woman was lost to her traveling party, there has never been another soul lost to the will-o'-the-wisp.

* * *

Emma gradually became aware that she was somewhere else. She wasn't entirely certain how long she'd been here. She couldn't recall where she'd been before this, but she knew that she hadn't meant to come here.

Someone else had brought her here, wherever here was.

"Where am I?" she shouted.

Her voice echoed on and on for miles. She was alone in the darkness, and the realization made her shiver. Or was that because she was freezing cold?

Her shadow-self appeared, but something was wrong. She was like a phantom, translucent and thin, hovering rather than standing. She seemed weak and fatigued.

"Where are we?" Emma demanded.

"In a moment between moments," her shadow-self replied, her words soft and deliberate. "This is the only way I could speak to you before we merge."

"Merge?" Emma repeated. "What are you - "

"There's no time," her shadow-self interrupted. "Please, just let me finish. I told you that we are the same person, Emma Swan, and we are. I've only been able to exist apart from you for so long because of an enchanted artifact, and its magic is fading."

Indeed, shadow-Emma was becoming more transparent by the second, which was a wonder given that, according to her own word, they were supposed to be in stasis, a moment between moments.

"Listen to me," her shadow-self continued. "If things get to be too much, all you have to do is remember that you are Emma Swan. Focus on that. You are Emma Swan. You're about to absorb all my - our - memories from before. Just, hold on, and keep going, and most of all, forgive yourself. It will be overwhelming and painful, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't set everything right. I'm sorry I changed so much and couldn't spare you from this. But there is one thing I'm not sorry for: Killian Jones."

Emma vaguely remembered Killian being in danger when she herself collapsed on the deck of the Jolly Roger. Before she could speak, however, her shadow-self flickered and vanished.

Then the darkness around her filled with cacophony: screaming pain and whispers of comfort. Dim light reached her eyes, but everything around her was indistinct. She felt cold and uncomfortable at first, but then warmth wrapped around her, bringing a blissful sense of safety and happiness.

"The wardrobe," a woman said. "It only takes one."

"Then our plan has failed," a man replied. "At least we're together."

"No," the woman said. "You have to take her. Take the baby to the wardrobe."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"No, it's the only way. You have to send her through."

"No, no, no!" the man said. "You don't know what you're saying!"

"No, I do," the woman said warily. "We have to believe that she'll come back for us. We have to give her her best chance."

Emma felt something on her forehead: a kiss.

"Goodbye, Emma," the woman said.

She wasn't sure what was going on, but Emma felt her heart breaking. She wanted to asked the two people who they were and what was going on, but she found that she couldn't speak. She couldn't move.

That was when she realized she was an infant, somehow aware and conscious in the arms of her parents on the day she was born. She felt her body move, cradled against the warm body of her father, and he carried her through the corridors.

The clang of metal reached her ears along with grunts and growls: a swordfight

But that didn't make any sense. Her parents had told Emma about her birth on more than one occasion, and they never mentioned any danger, let along her father fighting for their lives while holding her in his arms.

He continued moving quickly, and Emma considered her circumstances. She was an infant, yet she was acutely aware of the events around her. She also recalled her past with clarity. 

_I'm reliving my memories_ , Emma concluded.

Her father placed Emma on a wooden surface. She grabbed at the blanket she was wrapped in and felt the knitted texture of it in her hands. Why would he lay her down here and not her cradle?

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

"Find us," he whispered.

Then the light disappeared as two doors closed. She was inside a cupboard of some kind. The next thing she heard was a shout and the ringing of swords clashing together, but then it faded away, replaced by nothing more than the wind buffeting leaves and branches.

She felt cold, and she forced herself to move, making gargling noises as she did. How did she get outside? Where were her parents? 

The crunching of leaves told her someone approached, so she made as much noise as her new body could, hoping her father had returned to collect her.

Small hands reached over her and clumsily pulled her out of the wooden enclosure. She couldn't see much, but she saw a young boy's face and a red cap. Whoever he was, he wasn't her father. Emma cried.

"Don't worry, Emma," the boy said. "My papa told me to look after you, to make sure that you believe."

The boy was only a child, so Emma decided to stop crying.

But she didn't. She continued to fuss and cry as the boy carried her through the woods to some kind of path. She kept whining as he held her close in a vain effort to keep the wind from making her too cold, and she didn't relent when he stepped inside and her skin warmed up again.

Emma was aware of everything, but she couldn't do anything about it. It wasn't surprising. Reliving memories wasn't the same as living them. She had no choices here.

"Can I help you, young man?" someone asked. "Where are your parents?"

"We don't have any," the boy replied.

"What's your name, son?"

"Pinocchio."

Laughter broke out.

"That's cute, but, really, what's your name?" the stranger repeated.

"My papa always called me Pinocchio," he replied. "And this is Emma. I promised to keep her safe."

"How about you and Emma step over here, son," the stranger replied. "We'll find your father and get you home. How about that?"

Suddenly, there were voices everywhere, and she couldn't tell them apart. 

"Call child services," someone said.

"No, call the police."

"The boy just probably wandered off with his sister."

"Whoever left them by themselves deserves to be in a jail cell! I don't care what the excuse they give! They aren't fit to care for children!"

"Leaving a baby and a boy like that, wandering off or no, that ain't right!"

It went on and on, and Emma wanted it to stop. But she couldn't cover her ears to muffle the sounds, and her crying was drowned out by all the shouting.

_If things get to be too much, all you have to do is remember that you are Emma Swan. Focus on that. You are Emma Swan._

Her shadow-self had said that just before she started reliving memories. So she focused on her name, Emma Swan. She was Emma Swan, and she had been Emma Swan even before she was born.

Emma was standing in a dinner with the most bizarre and garish decorations. People were dressed in odd attire, and nearly everyone was focused on a young boy in a red cap. He was holding and infant.

She did a double take. Somehow, she was observing her memories rather than living them over again. Emma reached out to touch something, but her hand went straight through it. She spoke and shouted, but no one heard her.

She was just an observer, watching her life unfold, and as she watched, she began to recognize things. They weren't exactly familiar to her, but the clothing and the restaurant reminded her of those she saw in a Land without Magic.

How on earth had she ended up here as a baby?

 

Thankfully, time sped up, allowing Emma to view her entire youth in just a few hours, or at least, that's how long it felt.

A few weeks after she arrived in this land, she was fostered by a young couple, Edward and Shirley Swan, who adored her. They gave her their last name and went through the lengthy process of adoption, but it dragged on for years with no resolution.

Then Shirley became pregnant, and Emma found herself in the care of before-unknown extended family members who ignored and neglected her, then punished her when she acted out. Eventually, Edward decided that they simply didn't have the money for another child, especially not one that had so many disciplinary problems, so they sent Emma back into the foster system.

Adult Emma wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, but she had no means to discover information beyond what her two-and-a-half-year-old self could remember. It was possible that money was a real problem and that Shirley's medical situation was more dire than she knew, but all Emma remembered was that her parents had a 'real' baby, one that was theirs, unlike Emma. And that meant she wasn't wanted anymore.

Unfortunately, Emma wasn't simply observing herself. She felt everything that her younger counterpart did just as if she was reliving the memory. Stepping outside and watching events gave her control over their speed, but otherwise she re-experienced everything, reopening wounds that she never knew she had.

So, she watched as her younger self refused to answer to anything other than 'Emma Swan' even years after the Swans sent her back like a bad dish at a restaurant. Young Emma believed that they sent her away because they were in danger, and it was the only way to protect her. She believed they'd come back for her someday, and they'd be a family again. The Swans had told her the truth, that they couldn't care for her anymore, but she didn't believe that one bit. She loved them, and they loved her. In her mind, they were meant to be together.

She bounced from house to house, never staying for longer than six months. Eventually, she lost hope of the Swans returning, and she learned that adoption was just a pipe dream. Even Ingrid, or Sarah Fisher as she called herself in this land, gave up on her after a single setback.

It was a horrible contrast to her childhood with Snow and Charming. She had been stubborn and, in her teenage years, closed off, but she had been showered with love. There had never been a question of her worthiness for a family, nor had she ever wondered why she existed in the first place.

Emma tried to escape, but she couldn't. In a way, it felt like she was dreaming and couldn't wake herself. So she continued on, reminding herself that this wasn't what happened to her, not really. This was somebody else's life. 

But as events unfolded, it became all to clear that this _was_ her life, especially when Neal came into the picture. Their romance flew by in a few tumultuous minutes, as they were only together about ten months before he, like everyone else in her life, abandoned her.

And then she was pregnant with Henry. It was the worst experience of her life, watching herself turn away from her own son, unwilling to hold him, knowing it'd be too hard to do right by him and let him go.

Shocked and horrified, Emma flew through the next decade, which was marked by cynicism and loneliness with only traces of hope and happiness. The worst part was how familiar it was to her.

In her life, her _real_ life, after she renounced her crown, she put up walls to protect herself. She kept everyone at arm's length because she thought vulnerability was the same thing as weakness, and this version of herself made the same choice. It made her question everything. Did she really need to protect herself in either life? Or were those just justifications for her own stubbornness?

She didn't think too much about it, though, because Henry suddenly appeared in her life again. He was like a breath of fresh air, and he convinced her to journey to a place called Storybrooke. Emma slowed down to real time, desperate to feel that connection with her son, for even this version of herself had given him the biggest piece of her heart. 

She watched - and from time to time, yelled loud commentary - as a younger version of her father and mother lived separately in the same town as the Evil Queen and the Dark One. In some bizarre twist of fate, all the people who she grew up knowing were in this land, never aging. She cried when she saw Jiminy sitting and talking with Granny and the Huntsman, who was a completely different man than his younger brother, though they were both called Graham.

She witnessed her younger self break the Dark Curse with True Love's Kiss, and then watched as the town awoke to a new awareness. 

She watched as she and her mother got stranded in the Enchanted Forest and fought to return home. She laughed at her first meeting with Killian in this life, but it soon became painfully obvious that her alternate self wouldn't let herself trust someone she had chemistry with, not even Killian.

Things went by faster and faster. They faced off against Cora, Hook, and Regina in Storybrooke, and then against two people out to destroy magic. They went to Neverland with the Jolly Roger to rescue Henry and faced Pan. They lost each other when Regina reversed the Dark Curse, but they found each other again when Killian returned and found her in New York City. She nearly lost him to the Wicked Witch, but she gave up her magic instead. She went back in time, and Hook followed her. She returned to meet Elsa and Ingrid, then the Author, and then the darkness took her.

No matter how different her life was, some things never changed. She was stubborn and strong, and Killian Jones pledged to be by her side. That, and the darkness found her. She became the Dark One.

And so did Hook.

Losing him as the Dark One was too painful to watch. She had to turn away. Realizing Rumpel had nullified his sacrifice transformed her grief into rage, and she set a plan in motion.

 

Emma laid in wait for Rumpel in his shop. It wasn't long before he came looking for something or other, and Emma shackled him with the cuff Pan used to prevent the wearer from casting spells. She tied his hands together with magic twine.

"Are you sure this is wise, Miss Swan?" he replied dangerously. "I'm not just the Dark One anymore. I've absorbed the power from every Dark One that ever lived, included the pirate and, yes, even you."

"Right now, you couldn't cast a spell even if you cut off that arm," Emma said conversationally. "I'm here to give you a choice."

"You can't kill me - "

Emma interrupted him by producing the Dark One dagger.

"You were saying?" Emma asked. "The only reason I'm giving you the opportunity to live is Belle. She doesn't deserve to live through what I have. Help me quietly, and this will all be over soon."

"Don't think this is over, Miss Swan," he replied. "It's just a matter of time before I free myself of this cuff and take what's rightfully mine."

"We'll just have to wait and see."

Emma took some of his blood before transporting him to an abandoned Storybrooke property. She sealed him inside with blood magic, know that, since no one else in her family had magic, if she failed to return, the Dark One would be locked within for a very, very long time.

Then she went to the lake, cast in Rumpel's blood, and opened the door to the Underworld. She boarded the boat that appeared, and she waited with baited breath as it carried her away.

She was going to get him back. 

As Emma watched herself, she couldn't help but wonder why she went alone. She could've enlisted help from the entire town, yet she ventured into the unknown by herself.

She arrived at a place that looked just like Storybrooke, but she had barely taken a step out of her boat when a man appeared in an eruption of blue flames.

"You don't belong here," he said.

"I don't plan on staying for long," she replied. "I just came here to find the man I love."

"Oh, I'm quite aware of your quest, and the only reason you're not a smoldering pile of ash right now is because he asked me - well, begged me, really - not to."

"Killian knows I'm here?" she asked.

"He does, and he's staying."

"But I can split my heart. We can share it without breaking any rules," she replied.

"Yeah, here's the thing, rules or no rules, I can't let you take him," he replied. "I've finally got my son. I was supposed to have him when he was born, but instead I had to wait over three hundred years to be with him. Nothing and no one is coming between us again. Not for anything. My solution to this particular quandary is to smite you, but as my son has requested you not be harmed, I'm staying my hand. For now. I'm sending you home, and if you ever try to come back here again, I will destroy everything you love before I kill you."

"If Killian's your son, then don't you love him?" Emma asked. "Don't you want him to be happy?"

"I do love my son, and rest assured, his happiness is something I care about very deeply," he replied. 

"Sending his love away would put a damper on that, don't you think?"

"I'm the lord of this realm," he said. "I'll be in charge of keeping him happy, and I have my ways. Do us both a favor. Don't come back. I'd hate to break a promise to my son, especially my first promise, but I will if I must. This is my realm, and my son, and I have no intention of letting anyone else take him from me."

The man waved his hand, and Emma was thrown back into the boat, which began moving backward, back to the world.

"No!" Emma said. "NO! I can save him!"

But she couldn't leave the boat until it drifted back through the opening, and once there, she was thrown to the shore before the ship disappeared into water and the entry closed. She collapsed to the ground in defeat, shaking and crying in frustration.

 _I can't lose him_ , she thought to herself. _I just can't lose him._

"Emma? What's going on?"

It was Jefferson, the Mad Hatter.

"I'm sorry about Captain Hook," Jefferson said as he sat next to her. "Believe me when I say you're taking it better than I did. When Grace's mother died, I was... well, they don't make words for pain like that. I had to keep going, for Grace, but things were never right after that. Not for me. I tried to make it right for Grace, and I did an okay job of it until Regina tricked me and trapped me in Wonderland."

"Go away, Jefferson," Emma said as she got back to her feet and wiped her tears away.

"Look, Emma, I know you're the Savior, but Hook died. You can't rescue him. I was there when Regina tried to bring Daniel back with the Doctor's help. It didn't work. That's one thing magic simply can't do."

"Jefferson, go away," she repeated.

"I really am sorry about Hook."

"You're wrong," she said. "I will find a way to save him."

"You can't," Jefferson replied. "But we both know it's not possible. Whale spent most of his life trying to bring back the dead, and look what happened to him. If you could go back in time and do it all again, you could save him, but you can't. And if you keep obsessing on this, it'll drive you made. Take it from a guy who knows preoccupation."

With that, Jefferson departed, and Emma felt emptier than ever.

But then something occurred to her. Jefferson was right. She smiled and began to work furiously.

 

Emma didn't need to do this. She could complete her task without the Dark One, but she couldn't live with Rumpel having that kind of power. She couldn't let him be the most powerful Dark One of all time, living in a town full of her loved ones and friends.

So she collected the Apprentice's wand and the Sorcerer's Hat, and then she ordered the Dark One to attend her, controlling him with the dagger. He begrudgingly used the wand to transport them to the Enchanted Forest, and once they arrived, she replaced the magic cuff.

"This is getting old, dearie."

Rumpel didn't give her a moment's peace, taking ever opportunity to remark upon her current situation.

"What will you tell your parents?"

"I know you're grieving, dearie, but that's hardly and excuse. What could you possibly want so much to risk my wrath?"

"What will dear Henry think about what you've done to his grandfather?"

Finally, Emma snapped and ordered him to remain silent. She found a secluded place and buried her belongings - including the wand - and then ordered the Dark One to be unconscious. She cast the power-stripping spell with the Sorcerer's Hat, and once it left Rumpel, she waved her hand and teleported him to Camelot, which was a long way off. 

Then she waited.

It took longer this time, but the darkness broke free of the hat, just as it had before, making a beeline for her, the only living soul for miles. This time, she didn't fight it. She let it coil around her before she drove the knife straight into its tendrils.

And for the second - or third, depending on which moments counted - time, Emma Swan was reborn as the Dark One.

She collected her buried loot - smiling as she thought of Killian - and used the wand to transport herself back to Storybrooke. The last time she was the Dark One, she had been afraid of the darkness, but now she embraced it. She would handle the dark power inside her without becoming ruthless and petty like Rumpel.

She waited for nightfall before making her next move. No doubt her absence had been noticed, and it was only a matter of time before Jefferson spoke to her family. She needed to keep out of sight. 

As Storybrooke slept, she collected a golden brain, a broken sword, and her baby brother. The trickiest ingredient - Regina's heart - required poppy powder to keep her asleep while Emma stole it.

Her last stop was Henry's room, where she hid the new Dark One dagger, trusting that he would understand and know what to do with it.

Then she cast the time-travel spell, and the portal opened.

This was it. She would go back in time and prevent Killian from dying. She need only choose the right moment to return to. She decided to steal Excalibur from Arthur before Merlin sent her family after it. Then Arthur's forces wouldn't capture them, and Zelena wouldn't be able to bind Merlin to the sword. Killian would never be wounded by Excalibur, which meant she wouldn't need to turn him into another Dark One to save him, and in turn, he wouldn't murder Merlin to cast the Dark Curse. 

So she focused on the sword hours before her family went after it, and she stepped into the portal. But as she fell, she thought about how she needed to save Merlin. She owed him that much.

She landed in the dead of night somewhere outside a small village, and though no one was around, she heard voices not far off.

"Let's not think about cutting away anyone's magic or immortality," a woman said.

"Please don't," a man replied. "Don't do this, Nimue."

Nimue? But that couldn't be right. Nimue had lived in the time of Merlin, thousands of years before she intended to arrive. She hadn't brought the Black Fairy's Wand through with her to reopen the portal, and the ingredients of the spell were back in the future, in Storybrooke. The only way to get back now was the long way around. The only way she'd ever see anyone she loved again was waiting.

For thousands of years.

 _Bloody hell_ , she thought to herself.

 

Emma's first attempt to aid Merlin resulted in his transformation into a Bonsai Tree. She took it and retreated into the woods thereafter to protect him.

She lived as a hermit, doing everything she could not to interfere in the timeline more than she already had. She spent most of her time hiding or evading interaction with other living things, and all her other time was dedicated to undoing Merlin's curse.

Unfortunately, her intervention in this timeline had caused inadvertent changes, one of which was the curse Nimue cast on Merlin. Emma tried everything she could to undo it, but she had limited access to her powers. Every time she tapped into the Dark One's power, she risked Nimue discovering their connection.

No matter how fast Emma willed the time to pass, those lonely years dragged on with miserable sluggishness, marked only by the passing of one Dark One and the rise of the next.

She found a thousand ways to distract herself, from staring at the patterns of the bark on trees, to caring for the Bonsai Tree, to watching flower pedals open, though her most frequent pastime was whispering the names of those she loved most over and over again. She had had a photograph of her family in her wallet when she traveled back in time. It was a simple shot of her, Henry, her parents, and Killian at the loft with their names scribbled across the back.

Emma had heard tales of a dark soul wandering the realm. As a child, she was warned not to go into the forest at night, for among its many dangers were the Whispering Woman.

She laughed at the fact that a story that frightened her as a child was inspired by herself.

The solitude was treacherous, but other dangers still existed. After hundreds - perhaps thousands - of years and dozens of Dark Ones, one finally found her.

The Dark One was Jadis the Regal, and she came to call seeking a Bonsai Tree that was rumored to contained an immensely powerful wizard. When she attacked, Emma fled, but Jadis never gave up once she set her sights on something.

_"Did you think we didn't know?"_

_"We've always known. Always."_

The more Emma ran, the louder the voices in her head became, and eventually Jadis overtook her. She cast a lightning bolt that would've killed Emma had she not been the Dark One, and then she swooped in and took the Bonsai Tree, leaving Emma for dead.

That was when things became very bad. 

Nimue and the other Dark Ones began to haunt Emma in earnest, and for the first time since she became trapped in the past, Emma had nothing to care for but herself. Everything fell apart. She didn't have the strength to resist the Dark Ones and rescue the Bonsai Tree, so she wandered aimlessly in the darkness, hoping none would see her.

The only thing that kept her going was that there was something she was supposed to do. She had gone back in time for a reason, and she could still complete her task. 

The only trouble was that she had forgotten what that was a very, very long time ago.

 

Time sped up even faster, with each season passing in a few seconds, and the years continued on with the Whispering Woman wandering lost in the realm, a horrible remnant of her former self. She kept out of sight to protect the timeline, for eventually she would need to act. That strand of hope was the only thing that kept her alive.

Then someone found her. At first she hid from him as she did everyone, but then she heard something she hadn't heard in centuries.

"Emma Swan."

The man knew her name, and she couldn't help her curiosity.

"I know who you are," he said. "You might not remember me, for I was just a boy when we met. I'm the Sorcerer's Apprentice."

"You need to leave," Emma said quietly. "We can't alter the timeline any more than I already have, not until it's time."

"I understand," the Apprentice said. "And though you have been brave and strong these many years, you cannot live like this. You'll lose your mind. The Sorcerer has told me everything, and I have prepared a place for you."

"But what about time?" Emma asked.

"I'm afraid it's quite late of you to ask that question, Miss Swan," he replied. "But don't fear. The Sorcerer has seen the new future, and you are a part of it. Come with me."

So, for the first time in centuries, Emma had someone to speak to and a roof over her head. The Apprentice gave her books to read and tea and biscuits daily, even though the Dark One had no need for food.

She learned about the history of the realm and all the languages there were to learn. She studied magic, though she didn't practice it, and she learned about the other realms. And just like that, Emma Swan remembered parts of herself that she'd forgotten while fleeing the Dark Ones inside her.

The Apprentice mostly kept to himself, and Emma followed his lead. The daily routine of silent company over tea and biscuits was more than enough for her, and for a spell, time passed without misery.

Emma wasn't sure how long she'd been waiting, but one day, the Apprentice spoke over their morning tea.

"I believe your first task is finally upon us," the Apprentice said. "He will be born in six month's time."

She didn't need to ask who he meant: Killian Jones.

"His family is in danger, even as we speak. The time to act is now."

Emma had no way of knowing that, at this very moment, her pirate was fussing over her aboard the Jolly Roger.

* * *

Killian carried Emma to their bed in his cabin as soon as he came-to. He had half a mind to toss the dreamcatcher overboard, but he wrapped it in a spare sailcloth and stowed it below deck.

He checked on Emma, but she was still out cold. After a few hours, he tried waking her, but she didn't even flinch. 

_You will wake first. I promise you, she but sleeps. You need only wait._

The phantom-Emma had said that to him before the dreamcatcher pulled him under, but he hadn't realized what she'd meant then. She neglected to tell him how long he should wait, but it hardly mattered. He worried from the moment he couldn't wake her, and he would continue to worry until she woke.

Killian didn't know how long he had been passed out on the deck of his ship, and there was no way to tell in this new Dreamworld, which defied all notions of space and time. Case in point, he had turned his hourglass over twelve times, and darkness had yet to fall. In fact, there were two suns in and three moons in the sky.

Inside the dreamcatcher, it felt like several life times had passed, but his waking was only proceeded by mild hunger, which made him doubt that it had taken more than half a day. 

Yet after the fourteenth turn of the hourglass, Emma had yet to awaken, and he was overwhelmed with fatigue. He curled up next to her and dropped off to sleep, hoping that she would wake before him.

But alas, he opened his eyes, refreshed and rested, and Emma Swan slept on.

The same thing happened the next day. And the next. And the next.

He felt compelled to care for her, though she needed nothing to survive. He began washing her face in the morning and evening, and each night, he read to her from one of Henry's storybooks.

He did it as much to keep her company as he did to distract himself from the horrible memories he encountered in the dreamcatcher.

Killian had sought out the Sage after Liam died, desperate to know more about his family, but she declined his request for an audience. He never had a chance to pay for her services. At least, that was how he remembered it. It was hundreds of years ago, and given his recent experiences with shadow-Emma, it was possible that someone had tampered with his memories from back then. And, if there was any truth to the second life the dreamcatcher showed him - the one with Storybrooke - than he knew why.

Hades was his father, and he was looking for him.

Killian scoffed. He had sailed off the edge of the world and into the Underworld and met Hades in person. If he truly was his father, then why didn't he detain him? It would've been easy enough. It must've all been some strange fabrication.

He'd ask Emma once she woke, and in the mean time, he'd continue to watch over her.

Killian opened the storybook.

"The Mistletoe," he read out loud. "Once upon a time..."


	6. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian fights his past life as it intrudes on his daily affairs. Emma wakes after reliving her shadow-self's memories, and she struggles to reconcile her old life with her new.

Killian continued the upkeep on his ship over the next two weeks to keep himself busy. He had fallen into a rough routine of waking, checking on Emma, eating, and then distracting himself for the rest of the day. 

He spoke to Henry nearly every day. At first they spoke only of Emma, but soon their conversations expanded into tales of adventure, either in the Enchanted Forest or a Land without Magic. Had he not already been fond of Henry, he would certainly be now.

Today, he was double-checking every line that secured things to the ship during a storm, which led him to redoing the ropes on the lifeboats. He did his best to focus, but even with his hook, he could tie knots in his sleep. As his hand and hook worked automatically, his mind drifted elsewhere.

_"That's not the only thing you inherited from me, Killian," Hades said. "With all the wounds you sustained, did you ever once suffer an infection? Can you think of a time when you fell ill?"_

_"No," he replied._

_"You've received blows that should kill any living man and walked away," Hades continued. "They healed and scarred, some deeper than others, but you lived. You're a survivor."_

_"I was," Killian said. "I fail to see the point. Whatever I inherited from you is hardly any use now that I'm here."_

_Hades laughed and clapped Killian on the back._

_"This is my realm," he explained. "And as my son, living or dead, you have power here, which, incidentally, is not something your cousin Hercules could ever say. Your mortal half was a byproduct of bloodlines on your mother's side."_

_"My mother," Killian repeated. "Is... is she here?"_

_Hades straightened up at the question. Apparently, it was the wrong thing to ask._

_"I don't think you're ready for field trips just yet," Hades replied coldly. "You know, I think I've had enough father-son bonding time today."_

Killian opened his eyes to find his knuckles white from his grip tightening against the rope. 

Life had been like this after he woke from that bloody dreamcatcher. It was as if the memories within kept expanding into a new clarity, overtaking his thoughts whenever the opportunity presented itself. At first, it was just his dreams, but soon he found more and more of his waking moments occupied by events from that other life.

It was utter insanity, but what could he do?

At first, he had dismissed the events inside the dreamcatcher as a ruse, a lie. But every day, he became more and more certain that these things had happened, that he had somehow lived this other life. He could never reconcile the facts within - his birth father, Emma turning him into another Dark One, her parents being nearly the same age as they were - yet the experience felt too real to be mere fabrication.

He had lived two different lives, no matter how impossible that seemed.

He finished with the lifeboats and went down to the galley for something to eat. When he returned to the deck, darkness had fallen, and the sky was alight with a hundred thousand stars that weren't there the night previous.

_Bloody Dreamland._

Killian retired for his cabin for the night, reading to Emma before curling up next to her in bed.

"Carry on, Swan," he whispered before he fell asleep. "Come back to me soon, love."

* * *

**Once upon another lifetime...** Killian stood in a dull, gray room of stone and shadow, staring at an enchanted mirror. He watched the conversation between Hades and Emma as it unfolded in some other part of the Underworld. He felt numb when Hades tossed Emma back into the boat, and as she drifted away, he felt a heavy weight press into his heart till the pain was beyond crushing.

 _This is my bloody punishment for giving into the darkness_ , he thought to himself. _Seeing the woman I love slowly ripped away from me over and over again._

Hades reappeared, and the mirror went dark.

"I realize you must be disappointed, son, but it's for the best."

"If you desire a happy family reunion, prepare for disappointment."

"You haven't given me a chance."

"And why should I?" Killian asked. "Do you expect me to believe that the man who just threatened to murder the love of my life is my father?"

"She was meddling in things she didn't understand," Hades replied. "And, in case you've already forgotten, I stayed my hand, which is something I've never done. Only for you, son - "

"Stop calling me son!" he interjected. "If you are my father, where the bloody hell were you my entire life? All three hundred and fifty bloody years of it?"

Blue fire erupted atop of Hades' head, the perfect complement for the pure fury on his face. His jaw clenched and his hands came together, and he gradually returned to normal. 

"For the moment, I will let that go," he said deliberately. "But you should know, I'm not a patient man. I need you to hear what I have to say."

Killian had a retort ready, but he couldn't speak.

Hades continued, "I spent so long searching for the right woman so I could have a child, a family. It took centuries, but I finally found her. Of course, nothing in life is ever that simple. We didn't work out, your mother and I, so we came to a mutually beneficial agreement. You were supposed to come to me after you were born. Instead, your mother found a way to hide you from me so long as you lived. After the initial decade or so of rage, I'll admit, I admired her cleverness. She used my own domain against me, blinding the god of death from a single, living soul."

He took a moment, adjusting his long black coat. From his averted eyes and disposition, he seemed embarrassed by what he'd just said.

"Of course, that didn't stop me," he said with a hint of smug confidence. "I continued looking and learned everything I could about you. So you are correct, Killian, I've been absent, but I never abandoned you. I've been searching for you for over three hundred years, and you were the sparkle in my eye for centuries before that. And if you give me the chance now, I will prove to you that I am worthy to be your father."

Killian looked away, unsure of how to react. He doubted his afterlife would be free of reprisals, and the idea of a father who wanted him seemed too good to be true. He worried that accepting a new father would somehow tarnish his memories of Liam.

"Tell you what. Don't answer me now. Just think about."

Hades snapped his fingers, and Killian was suddenly on the bridge of a beautiful ship. The craftsmanship was superb, fashioned in the same style as the Jolly Roger. He wondered what would happen to his beloved ship now that her captain was gone, and he smiled when he pictured Emma and Henry taking over her care.

But then his face fell as he thought of Emma. Whatever was ahead of him, he doubted anything would be enough to fill the Emma-shaped hole in his heart. He didn't even have the chance to say goodbye one last time.

"Boarding a ship without permission from her captain is bad form, sailor."

Killian turned leisurely, as if moving too quickly might render this moment an illusion.

"Surely you expected to see me, brother," Liam said. "Or did you think I'd grow bored of waiting after the first century?"

Killian embraced Liam, his disbelief ebbing away with each passing second.

"Liam? What... how are you here?"

"I've no idea," he replied. "I died, that much is clear, but the rest... Let's just say, the particulars are lost on me, I'm afraid. Welcome aboard the Helios. I've captained her since I first arrived. She's a wonder, Killian, I dare say even more so than the Jewel."

"She is a marvelous ship," he commented.

"That she is," Liam said. "And while I am desperate to hear all about your adventures, I should think you'd want to meet the crew."

"What of them?" Killian asked.

"They're not just any crew. The Helios only takes worthy sailors. I dare say you'll find the number of familiar faces overwhelming."

Liam gave him a smile that was all too-telling. He had a surprise in store, as if being together again wasn't enough of a gift.

"In fact, perhaps you should visit the First Mate's cabin," Liam continued.

"I've only just found you again."

"There will be time for that later. Don't make me order you, Lieutenant."

"Aye, aye, captain," he replied.

He made his way below deck, easily finding the First Mate's cabin. He knocked on the door. He didn't have time to wonder who might answer it, for it opened immediately, revealing someone he wasn't ready to see again.

"Milah?"

 

Killian jolted awake. He should've been comforted by the familiar sounds of the Jolly Roger creaking around him, but his mind was awash in doubt and unhappiness.

Finding Liam and Milah happy and alive in the Underworld should've been a gift, a blessing that a man like him simply didn't deserve. But in this previous life, it had come on the heels of not only losing Emma but nearly losing himself to the darkness by becoming what he hated the most, the Dark One.

It was more than that, though. For hundreds of years, he promised himself that, if there was an afterlife, he would find Milah there, come what may. But, just as in this life, Emma Swan had come along, and he had let Milah go. He didn't understand exactly what that meant until they were reunited, and his heart ached with that realization. 

He turned his head to look at Emma, knowing he would likely find her still asleep. Instead, his mouth went dry, and he sat up, shocked.

Emma was gone.

* * *

Emma Swan was sitting on the crescent moon, her bare feet dangling over the side. She stared down at the tiny spot in the water she knew to be the Jolly Roger and felt a twinge of guilt.

She shouldn't have disappeared on Killian like that, but after waking and recognizing that it was finally, finally over, it felt like she couldn't breathe. She needed to escape.

Reliving millennia in the span of a few weeks had consequences. Her memories would come together and bottle up in a tremendous force until the levy broke so that her emotions would pour out of her in a wild, furious eruption. Sometimes it was a crushing depression, other times, a deep-seated hatred, but for the most part, it was a horrible sense of loss and loneliness.

She couldn't let Killian see her like this.

The moon became a cloud that descended to the earth, leaving Emma perched on a picnic table in the middle of an empty plain. Whenever Dreamworld's landscape changed, it shifted her into the new setting. It was oddly comforting.

_And if you can't, if you can't find it in yourself to trust your own heart any longer, then have faith in Captain Killian Jones. After all, he's the reason for all of this._

The words from her shadow-self echoed around in her head, and part of her wanted to laugh. She had thought shadow-Emma was referring to the things she did in this life, but now she realized what was meant by _all of this_ , events spread out across history. Time travel that changed everything and everyone in her life.

Again she found herself overwhelmed with regret and wretchedness. She had spent so long separated from the people she loved most, yet now, when all she needed to do was focus and teleport, she couldn't bring herself to go to any of them.

Emma felt paralyzed. She thought her shadow-self would tell her who would pull the sword from the stone or provide another way to vanquish the Dark One. Instead, she learned the vastness of her own mistakes. And what had pushed her to do it? Love.

A deep, abiding, passionate love for Killian Jones.

She shivered. She wasn't ready to confront her feelings for Killian because that led to questions. Questions like, what kind of life could she offer him? The Dark One didn't age, and there was no telling how long she'd wait for someone to pull Excalibur from the stone. Would she drag him on quest after fruitless quest trying to rid herself of the darkness? Would she shunt her dark magic into him when she couldn't handle it? Would they be stuck in Dreamworld until someone could cut away her darkness?

No, she couldn't do that to him. He was a good man, and he deserved better than a woman who upturned all of time trying to wrench him from his father. The same woman who turned him into the second Dark One after he asked her - no, begged her - to let him go.

She choked back tears as she realized that, in a way, she had made him the Dark One in this time, too. She had grounded his heart to her magic, and at one point, burdened him with the darkness for her own sake.

Emma Swan tainted Killian Jones with darkness in two separate lifetimes, and in both cases, it was for selfish reasons. Who would do that to someone they loved?

A downpour started, but she didn't move. She just sat there and let the rain fall, soaking her to the bone. It was miserable and freezing, but it felt so real, so solid, after all that time in her own head.

"Fancy meeting you here, love," Killian said.

Her insides froze.

"Come on, Swan, let's get you out of this weather." 

He wrapped a heavy coat around her and tried to pull her off the picnic table, but she wouldn't budge.

He stood in front of her, his dark hair wet and plastered to his head, and she looked away, unable to meet his eye. He reached out and cupped her chin before gently turning her face back to his own.

"Swan, whatever has happened, whatever hell you've just survived, we don't have to speak of it," he said. "But I will not leave you here alone, love. If I have to, I will stand right here for the rest of this storm and whatever comes after. And if you disappear on me again, I'll follow. I will always find you."

She couldn't leave her pirate exposed to the elements like this, so she nodded her head, yes, and stood up from the table. She wanted to teleport them both back to the ship, but she couldn't concentrate with the storm blowing around her.

So, instead, Killian wrapped his arm around her back and guided her through the downpour.

* * *

He didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't this.

Killian led Emma to a tiny cabin. When they stepped inside, the roaring storm died down to barely a rustling wind. Their clothing was soaked through, and he doubted they could reach the lifeboat he used to paddle to shore. Even if the laws of the sea were the same in Dreamworld, the land shifted continuously. For all he knew, the shore had already separated from wherever the bloody hell this cabin stood.

Emma had a vacant look on her face. It wasn't as if she were deep in thought; no, it was like she had checked out of her body, her spirit elsewhere. He began to dry them both off with whatever he could find in the cabin, but his work went slowly, as he was already chilled to the bone.

 _In Neverland, you need only believe and imagine something for it to happen_ , he thought. _Perhaps Dreamworld is similar._

He imagined the warmth of the fire washing over them both, and he believed that the wood ignited of its own accord. He glanced at the fireplace, but he saw no flames.

He tried to remember anything else that might help him, but the only thing that came to mind were memories from his other life. In order to connect with him, Hades began 'lessons,' schooling him in the abilities he supposedly inherited by being the son of a deity. 

_"Control over the elements," Hades said. "Zeus has a monopoly on lightning bolts, and Poseidon has control over the waters of the earth. Everything else is fair game. Technically, I was given dominion over the treasures of the earth - gold, silver, and so on - as well as the fire at its core."_

_"There's fire at the core of the earth?" Killian asked. "But earth smothers flames."_

_"That she does," Hades replied. "Which should give you an understanding of the power of the fire I'm talking about."_

Killian closed his eyes and imagined the Radiant Flame that resided at the center of the earth. Hades had described it as a river of molten fire, like a smithy's heated metal before it achieved its form. Killian imagined the tiniest spark of that inner fire touching the wood.

He opened his eyes as the blaze went up, spilling warmth throughout the cabin and bringing heat back to his face.

It bloody _worked_.

He smiled and turned back to Emma, whose expression hadn't changed.

"You might be wondering how I lit the fire," he said quietly. "Or how I found you in the first place, love."

She didn't respond, but he continued speaking, hoping she could hear him.

* * *

Emma wanted to reach out to Killian. She wanted to tell him everything, but she felt like she was drowning. Every time she looked at him, her heart felt like it might burst. She had to tell him. She had to.

He kept speaking to her. He explained that Hades was his father, and he inherited a number of gifts, including the ability to find lost souls, living or dead, in any realm. It made sense. If there was a word to describe her right now, it would be 'lost.'

He continued to tell her about his other memories, and she followed the sound of his voice back to herself. She became more and more aware of her surroundings: small cabin, roaring fire, storm outside. It was almost romantic, except Killian was shivering.

She reached out and touched his shoulder, and he suddenly went quiet.

"Love, are you all right?"

She couldn't bring herself to answer him. 

Emma waved her hand, and in the blink of an eye, they were back aboard the Jolly Roger, dry and warm in their cabin.

"Emma?" Killian said as he leaned over her. "Emma? Can you hear me?"

What if she told him, and he rejected her? How could she justify ripping him away from Hades after they'd just met? How could he forgive her for the things she'd done, not just in this life, but the last one, too?

She lost her nerve. She couldn't tell him.

"You don't have to speak, love," he said. "Just blink three times if you can hear me."

She stared into his too-blue eyes for a moment before blinking three times. Killian's face split into a wide smile as he cupped her cheek.

"Fear not, Swan. I'm here."

* * *

**Once upon another lifetime...** Killian woke up standing on a beautiful beach that stretched on forever. How the bloody hell did he get here?

"Ah, sometimes my method of travel can be disorienting," Hades explained. "You'll get used to it. Don't worry, I arrange this shore leave with your captain. Will you walk with me?"

Killian nodded his head, yes. Their first few paces were in silence. He couldn't think of what to say. Good form told him he should inquire about some matter of personal interest, but his pride wouldn't have it. He still had no reason to believe Hades was his father.

"You get that from me, you know," Hades said. "The persistent skepticism."

"Liam taught me to think for myself," Killian replied.

"I'm not talking about thinking, Killian," he said. "When you and Liam traveled to Neverland, a young boy you had never met before warned you about your quarry's properties. Liam dismissed him, but you didn't."

"My brother's death is something of a sore subject," he replied. "Blaming him because - "

"That's not at all what I meant," Hades interrupted. "Most people would've done what your brother did. His king sent him on a mission, and a strange boy tells him it's a lie. Of course he believed his king. He had no reason not to trust a man he respected and obeyed, and, point in fact, neither did you."

Killian stopped, and when Hades turned around, he asked, "Are you saying that, had anyone else gone ashore with my brother, he would've lived?"

"Had it been anyone but you, your former king would've attained the most deadly poison in all the realms."

He came close and put his hand on Killian's shoulder, and for the first time since passing into this realm, he felt solace.

"I'm sorry you lost your brother that way. It was not your fault or his. What I speak of isn't something you were taught, but I understand why you think that," Hades said as he dropped his arm. "I'm sure you dismissed your abilities as instinct or luck."

"Abilities?"

"You are the child of a deity."

A mirthless laugh of disbelief escaped his lips, and cynicism quashed his curiosity.

"Is this where you tell me I'm like my cousin Hercules?" Killian asked sarcastically.

"Your skepticism isn't like the general mistrust other people have," Hades said. "If you stopped seeing yourself as the undeserving boy abandoned by the man who pretended to be his father or the reprehensible pirate that deserves nothing but punishment, maybe you'd be able to give yourself a little credit."

Each word was spoken deliberately and eloquently with neither anger nor threat, yet Killian heard a distinct warning as Hades spoke.

"See, you're doing it right now," Hades continued, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "That's Perception, and it can't be taught."

"You're suggesting I can observe things others cannot."

"It's much more than that," he replied. "Admittedly, my younger brothers possess powers more ostentatious than my own, lightning bolts and earthquakes and all that. I'm sure Perception seems a rather humble gift in comparison, but judging the dead would be impossible without it."

"I personally doubt I'd have success with such an endeavor," Killian replied.

"That's not the only thing you inherited from me, Killian."

* * *

Killian had fallen asleep next to her, and in the hours between then and now, she tried to think of what to say to him. Should she begin by explaining the time travel spell? Should she mentioned that he died in this other life? Or should she start with the other life they had had together?

It quickly became overwhelming, and she had to stop thinking about it.

Emma needed something to say to Killian. She couldn't lie in this bed forever, mute and immobile, no matter how appealing that was to her in this moment.

As she curled up at his side, conflicted and confused, she began to remember something.

_"You're probably wondering what I'm doing here. No, you're probably hoping I die a horrible death and don't care why I'm here. I can't blame you._

_"I lost my way a long time ago. I've pondered on that, and I realize now that there was never one jump into the darkness. I tiptoed away from what was right with a thousand small mistakes building and building so they weren't small anymore._

_"But in the moment, to me, it was as if, I was suddenly ignoring all the important things. I hadn't just hurt my love, I'd destroyed our relationship. She was my heart, and once I lost her, there wasn't much hope of me finding my way back alone. She remained by my side out of duty for our people, but it was never the same. I kept trying to make it right in all the wrong ways._

_"People may say that I failed as a king because I was a terrible leader, because I was obsessed over the sword, because I let the darkness in. But those are the words of fools, Miss Swan. I failed because I lost my way, and once I saw how far I was from the man I was meant to be, I lost hope. I decided that what I had was what I deserved: a broken sword, a broken kingdom, and a broken heart. To make myself feel better, I lied to myself, saying that when I fixed the sword, the rest would follow. I wouldn't be worthy of love or kingship until I fixed the sword._

_"But love isn't about worthiness. If I had the courage to admit my mistake and change for my wife, then I would've been a better king, but I was too afraid. Too afraid she would finally give up and leave me forever. Don't let the same happen to you._

_"Don't let the fear stop you. Don't let anything stop you, Miss Swan. Maybe you don't deserve it. Maybe he doesn't deserve it. It doesn't matter. Take it from a man whose already made all your future mistakes: you don't need to be worthy of love. Love makes you worthy."_

Arthur had spoken those words to her when she was a statue. Her father had led the broken former king to her, but, at the time, her fury had prevented her from listening.

So many people had told her about accepting love when you had a chance, yet the words that touched her - that truly moved her - were not from her parents, her friends, her siblings, nor her son. No, they were from a lost and lonely man who had ruined her life.

She felt a sob rising inside, for she knew that Arthur was right. He was an obsessed prick, and she hated him for the terrible things he'd done. But she was more like him right now that she was her parents, her siblings, or her son. She was like Arthur, a long way away from being the person she was meant to be.

She didn't deserve love, not after her countless mistakes, but abandoning Killian, hiding from her loved ones, that would just be one more misstep.

Emma felt tears slide down her cheeks.

"Emma?" Killian said, his eyes still bleary with sleepy. "Are you all right?"

He turned to her and wiped the tears away.

She had to speak before she lost her nerve. She knew she did. She didn't answer his question; instead, she said the only thing that seemed important at the time. 

"I love you," she whispered. 

His eyes flickered, like a man waking from a deep sleep, but his expression was sharp. He was tired and probably confused about what she had just said.

"I love you, Killian Jones," she repeated, her hand on his cheek. "I've loved you for longer than I can say."

His smile became enormous, and his eyes shined like a hundred stars in a clear sky over the ocean.

"I love you, Emma Swan," he replied. "I love you now, just as I've loved you before in our last life, and probably in the life before that."

His hand came up around the back of her head as his lips came down over hers. It started slow and gentle, but passions were running high, escalating the kiss. She drank it in, basking in it, until they had to break apart to breathe. 

Suddenly, the air was rife with energy, radiating outward from them in a concentric pattern. Emma felt the weight on her shoulders, the darkness inside her, wane and ebb away.

"Swan?" Killian asked. "What's going on? Love, your eyes, your hair - "

He was interrupted by a blinding light. They both flinched away from it, unsure of where it came from, and the ship shook hard for a few moments.

Then everything stopped, and when she opened her eyes, there were three people in the cabin.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Killian demanded. "And why is it that every bloody idiot thinks they can come aboard without the Captain's permission?"

"My apologies," the stranger replied. "But in my defense, you brought me aboard. Lovely view by the way."

Killian moved swiftly. He slid out of bed, grabbed his cutlass, and pointed it at the stranger's throat. He looked quite menacing, despite being in his boxers with rumpled hair.

"That's not necessary, Captain," the man said. "I assure you, I mean you no harm."

"Who are you? I won't ask again."

"I am the man you and Emma just saved from a curse."

Something flickered before them, and Emma sat up to get a better look. Killian hadn't noticed it, but it became clearer with each passing second.

It was Nimue.

"What are you doing here?" Emma asked.

"I just came to say goodbye," Nimue replied.

"Who are you talking to, love?" Killian asked. 

"Nimue," the stranger replied.

"I'm sorry," Nimue said as she approached the intruder. She touched his face with gentle affection. "I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me?"

"I forgave you a long time ago," he replied. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Nimue whispered.

Then she faded away.

Killian was clearly losing his patience, and Emma realized he hadn't been able to see Nimue at all.

"Apologies, Captain," the stranger said. "You can call me Merlin."

"Merlin?" Emma repeated.

"Good to see you again, Emma," Merlin said. 

"Swan, do you know this man?"

"In another life," she replied. "I tried to undo the curse the Dark One put on you, but I never could break it."

"Happily, True Love's Kiss can break any curse," Merlin said. "Even yours, Emma."

She put her hand on her chest, digging deeply, searching for the darkness, but it was gone.

The Dark One was gone forever.

* * *

Merlin excused himself, leaving the cabin for the deck. 

Killian began to dress as Emma examined her own features in the long mirror on the closet door. She looked like her old self again, and from her expression, it was clear she didn't quite believe it.

He was struggling with the buttons on his shirt when she pushed his hands away, demanding his complete attention.

"I love you," she said. "I've loved you for hundreds of years. I was afraid to say it. Afraid you wouldn't feel the same way after... after everything."

"The past is the past, including past lives, Swan," he replied.

"I doubt you'd still see it that way if you knew," she said.

"Because in this other life of ours, when I died, you marched into the Underworld to rescue me?" Killian asked.

"You... you knew?" Emma asked. "Hades told me you did, but he sent me away before I could see you."

"Aye, love," he replied.

"I'm the reason we have this other life we can't remember," she replied. "When Hades threw me out of the Underworld, I couldn't accept that you were gone forever, so I cast a spell that sent me back in time. I only meant to save your life, but I went too far back. I changed everything, too much..."

"Why would that make me care for you any less?"

"Even if I told you that I was the one who - "

He interrupted her and said, "I love you, Emma Swan, no matter what you've done."

Emma pressed her lips against his, her hands on either side of his face. He brought her closer with his left arm as his right guided her head back for a deeper kiss, his tongue teasing her lips for entry before skimming along the inside of her mouth. They hadn't been together like this for weeks, and somehow each familiar touch and taste was new again.

His fingers undid the back of her nightgown with one hand, and with the slightest of movements the delicate material fell to the floor, leaving Emma in nothing but her underwear.

She pushed his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, dragging it off him and discarding it behind him. When she brought his head down for another kiss, he felt her pebbled nipples against his skin, and what little restraint he had managed to hold onto broke.

From the moment she uttered those astonishing words, his body ached to drown in hers, to see if, somehow, their shared declarations had changed anything. But more than that, all of those old memories, that entire past life, had clouded his day-to-day thinking, and he needed to retrace the steps of every previous passion to see if that, too, had become different.

He cupped her ass, lifting her off her feet as he took a few steps toward the wall to lean her against it. Her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing their centers together, the friction muffled only by the thin fabrics of their undergarments. As he pressed her into the wall, her hands stroked down his back, playfully tugging at the waistband of his boxers as she rolled her hips into him.

With her pinned against the wall, his lips started at the pulse point on her neck, nibbling then sucking as he went lower, lifting her a little higher so he could wrap his lips around each nipple, dragging a moan from somewhere deep inside her. He could smell her wetness before he went lower, and it cut away at his already frayed patience.

Killian's fingers moved up her inner thigh, and as soon as they grazed her saturated panties, he couldn't wait any longer. It had been too bloody long since he'd been inside her, too bloody long since he felt her coming apart around him.

Emma wrapped her arms around him, holding tight to his body as he pulled away from the wall and spun them toward the bed. She only relinquished her grip when he laid her out on the bed, dragging her underwear with him as he went. He stepped back for a moment, allowing himself to take in the beautiful Emma Swan bare to him, her fair skin marked with hot, red marks from his teeth and lips.

"Killian," she groaned, arching her back up from the bed.

He stripped his boxers, biting down the gasp that threaten to leave his lips when cool air met his hard cock. He started at her feet, kissing his way up to her inner thighs, drawn in by her scent, and her every sound spurring him on.

His fingers played in her folds, slowing parting them as a single finger slipped inside. The second finger followed just as easily.

"Gods, you're wet, love."

His tongue pressed against her clit, and her hips bucked up involuntarily. He added a third finger and began crooking them, finding that spot she loved so dearly, while his tongue continued its work.

"Killian!" she moaned as her hands grabbed either side of his head.

She was so close, but she was yanking on him, pulling him up and away. He followed her lead, coming up into a searing kiss, but he kept his fingers diligently working her over, his thumb taking the place of his tongue. It only took a few more well-time thrusts before her walls clamped down and the cabin filled with her voice crying his name.

There was nothing more beautiful than Emma after her climax. Her blonde locks were spread wildly around her, half-fanned out over the pillow, half curled over her shoulders. Her expression was relaxed, her breath labored panting, her fingers fisting the sheets. 

Killian suddenly found himself on his back with Emma above him, her lips curled into a wicked grin. She straddled him, lining them up for only a moment before sliding down over him, enveloping his member in warm, wet perfection.

"Fuck, Emma," he growled.

His left arm went around her lower back, keeping her in place as he felt her stretch around him. It took everything he had not to flip them over and pound into her, deep and reckless. The palms of her hands came down over his chest as she leaned forward, changing the angle as she moved her hips.

Then she circled her hips in steady, leisurely rhythm, pushing him into a state of complete physical bliss. He let her take the lead, following her movements with measured thrusts, but he wanted more. He needed to feel her skin against his. 

Killian shifted, sitting up so she was kneeling over his lap. His lips found her nipples and suckled each, and her back bowed as she arched into his touch. He took his time making his way up to her lips, kissing and nibbling before he moved on.

Impatient, she tugged as his hair, wrenching him into a long, deep kiss that only broke apart when her head fell back as her eyes rolled back into her head. He pressed his advantage, his hand grabbing her hip as he thrust harder and deeper into her. He was close - closer than he'd like to admit - and he needed to feel her come around him before that happened. So his hand went back to their center, finding her clit and tapping in tandem with his thrusts.

Emma's head dropped to his shoulder as her walls tightened around him, her teeth grazing his shoulder as her arms embraced him as if she were holding on for dear life. A few more desperate thrusts, and he followed her, spilling himself inside with her name on his lips.

"Bloody hell, Swan," he muttered as they collapsed onto the bed together.

* * *

After washing up and getting dressed, Emma went to the deck and found Merlin waiting on the bridge. He was looking up at the stars with wonder in his eyes.

"This realm hasn't changed since last I was here," Merlin said as she approached. "And that was a very, very long time ago."

"Peter Pan changed it," Emma said.

"Indeed, but I'm happy to see that Neverland left no permanent scars on Dreamworld."

"Is it true?" Emma asked. "The Dark One is gone? Forever?"

"Miss Swan, you saw for yourself. Surely, you felt it, too."

"I've felt it disappear before," Emma replied. "But it wasn't really gone."

"Ah," Merlin replied. He held out a fist, turned it, and then opened his fingers to reveal his palm. "I believe these are yours?"

They were her grandparent's wedding rings. She took them and examined them closely, though she knew with a single glance that they were the same rings.

She began, "But, I used those to - "

"Protect Captain Hook from your magic," Merlin completed her sentence. "Brilliant idea, but no longer necessary with the Dark One gone. I thought perhaps you'd have another use for these rings."

"I don't understand," Emma said. "After everything - that other life I lived, time travel, Excalibur - are you saying that all that was needed to banish the Dark One was True Love's kiss?"

"It only failed to work with you two before for the doubts in your mind. And sometimes his. And the memory loss didn't help, either," Merlin said. "True Love is the most powerful magic of all. I'm afraid the Dark Ones before you who found it did not see its value. They clung to their curse for fear of losing their power. I always knew you would be the one to change that forever."

"That doesn't mean that I'm the Savior again," Emma said. "How can I go back to being the person I was?"

"Personally, I don't recommend it," Merlin replied coyly. "Be who you are now. The woman who defeated the darkness. We could return to the Enchanted Forest in a matter of hours, with your Captain's permission, of course."

She turned away, finding the edge of the horizon where the dimmest shades of gray-blue were forming. The sun was coming up.

"A very long time ago, I wanted to become a man again," Merlin said. "I was ready to cut away my magic and lead a normal, mortal life. That's why I made Excalibur."

"But, the sword is trapped in the stone again."

"Not forever," Merlin replied. "Twenty-two years from now, a young woman, the heir to Camelot and the beginning of a new dynasty, will pull Excalibur from the stone."

Emma gave him a questioning look. "You also said that the man who pulled the sword from the stone - Arthur - would help end the darkness forever."

"And didn't he?" Merlin asked. "Wasn't it his words that gave you the courage to tell Killian the truth?"

"How... how do you know that?"

Merlin didn't reply, but he gave her a smile that was knowing and just a little smug. It reminded her of Killian.

"All he did was talk to me. Anyone could've done that," Emma protested.

"Maybe," Merlin replied. "But that's the trouble with prophecy. If I had said that the man who pulled the sword from the stone would be an okay king for a while, go off the path, and then give a pep-talk to the Dark One that would actually work, well, nobody would've believed it. Nobody would've repeated it. Arthur would've never figured out it was him... you get the idea."

"So you knew Arthur would go crazy trying to fix the sword?"

"I knew he would lose his way," Merlin replied. "I would argue that most of us do, Miss Swan, but that's no reason for not finding our way home again."

"You should take Killian back to the Enchanted Forest," Emma said.

"And leave you here?"

"It would be safer for everyone," she replied. "I can't... the Dark One might be gone, but I still have the magic of the Savior. I abused it before. At least here, I can't do any real harm."

"Did I mention the woman pulling the sword from the stone?" Merlin asked. "Twenty-two years isn't much compared to millennia, but I'd prefer not to wait any longer than I must. I'm sure you understand."

"Merlin, I'm not asking you to stay with me."

He gave her a warm smile and said, "Emma, perhaps I neglected to mention that this woman is your daughter."

"I don't have a daughter."

"Give yourself nine months out of Dreamworld's influence, and you will," he said.

Emma's jaw dropped as disbelief set in. The rays of the sun began peeking over the horizon, blotting out the stars above.

"No, that's not possible," she said stubbornly.

Merlin began, "Ah, so you and the good Captain didn't - "

"It's not, no," Emma interrupted. "I'm not pregnant."

"Only just," Merlin said. "And so long as you're in this realm, you won't age, which means the pregnancy won't advance, and your daughter won't be born."

As the dawn finally broke, Killian ascended from below deck, carrying a tray laden with breakfast foods. Emma looked between the two men as all the words in her brain left, leaving her speechless under the rising sun.

"I thought some breakfast was in order," Killian said awkwardly, setting the tray down.

"Take us home," Emma said abruptly to Merlin.

"Swan?"

"Merlin said he'd take us back to the Enchanted Forest," she replied.

"Normally, I'd just conjure a door," Merlin explained. "But taking the entire Jolly Roger back will require a little more effort on my part. If you wouldn't mind, Captain, I recommend waiting below deck. Oh, and leave some of that breakfast. It's been ages since I've had good cheese."

Killian's jaw tightened. He never liked the idea of someone piloting the ship unless he'd taught them himself.

Emma grabbed his hand and dragged him to the door and ladder that led to their cabin. She had far too much to tell him to wait another second, and when she gripped the rings in her hand, she realized she had something to ask him as well.

Merlin gave her a nod and a wink before she climbed down after her pirate, the man she had loved enough to fight herself, the Dark One, death incarnate, and all of time so they could have a life together.

It was time they started now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this episode, Shipshape and Bristol, is from the naval expression _Shipshape and Bristol Fashion_ , which meant the ship was in good condition, first-call order.

**Author's Note:**

> Thus ends Her Dark Works! I hope you've enjoyed the series, and thank you all for reading! Your comments, bookmarks, kudos, and support have kept me going since I started writing episode two, and I am very grateful.
> 
> The title of this series, _Her Dark Works_ , is in reference to Emma going back in time as the Dark Swan and changing the timeline far more than she ever intended.
> 
>  **Extended Author's Note**  
>  When I started Her Dark Works, I decided that the point of view would be third person limited for either Emma or Hook. I discovered that there were a number of stories that simply couldn't be told with this limitation, including events that occurred in tandem with events of the story, such as Robin and Red finding Mulan and the children in a Land without Magic and how Maleficent/Melinda and Lily hooked up with the group.
> 
> Her Dark Works also has a ton of stories that occurred before Emma Swan found Killian Jones in that tavern in Episode #1 Stowaway. These tales also contain the backstories of many characters in this timeline, which I outlined for reference while writing Her Dark Works, but I haven't yet written. However, I did give them all shorthand titles as follows:
> 
>   * The Curse of Persephone, or How Hades Lost His Hat
>   * A Pox on Pan
>   * Life at Sea, or a Sailor's Life
>   * The Disappearance of Bald Mountain
>   * The Scourge of the Sea
>   * The Pixie Pirate
>   * Giantsbane
>   * FrankenVil, or the Author's Meddling
>   * A Wicked Family
>   * The Letter of the Law
>   * A Dragon's Tale
>   * The Blizzard and the Brave
>   * A Star and a Dream
>   * Good Form in Heartache
>   * FrankenDuke, or the White Whale
>   * The Banishment of the Evil Queen
>   * A Lost Cause
>   * The Sidney Glass Chronicles
>   * The Two Sleeping Hoods
>   * The Queen of Hearts and the Mad Hatter
>   * Timeless Escape
>   * That Golden Curse
>   * The Cursed Castle
>   * The Real Boy
>   * Gale Force Winds
>   * The Author Block
>   * The Princess and the Werewolf
>   * The Orphan Prince
>   * Mulan Rouge, a Sherwood Tale
>   * Peonies for Peons
>   * The Princess and the Hunter
>   * Black Hearts
>   * Buried
>   * The Savior of the Realm
>   * One Thousand Needles
>   * The Reunion
>   * Kansas
>   * Lost and Found
> 

> 
> Other stories that happen after the conclusion of Her Dark Works:
> 
>   * The Scarlet Beauty
>   * For the Lost Men
>   * The Once and Future
> 

> 
> I'm not sure if I'll actually write all of these stories, but I do plan on writing a few of the juicier ones. So be on the lookout for **Her Dark Works: The Lost Tales**.
> 
> Also, there were a number of Captain Swan Dream Scenes (essentially, a list of intimate Captain Swan moments) that I did not get to write into the series. There were a few that occurred during the events of the series but weren't included for one reason or another. I plan on writing these moments as a series of drabbles, as they'll be mostly PWP. If that interests you, please keep an eye out for **Her Dark Works: Dream Scenes** (working title).


End file.
